Of Peculiar Hats and Pretty Blondes
by Drowning.Octopus
Summary: Jughead and Betty are best friends, but that's just not enough for him. What happens between the two of them when Archie's out of the picture? And what the hell does "best friends" mean, anyway? Complete.
1. Chapter 1: Warming Up

She had him pinned. Her face--her lips--were just inches from his. And it really didn't help that she was breathing that hard.

Jughead tried to calm himself. This was _Betty_ here. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Betty was grinning at him.

"That's what you deserve!" she said, dismounting. Archie was howling with laughter.

Jughead tried to keep his composure. He laughed. "Okay, Betty. I lost." She grinned at him, brushing powdered snow from his hat.

Jug turned to Archie and pointed. "This is a girl NOBODY should throw snowballs at." Archie and Betty both laughed.

"Say, Bets," Archie called, suddenly serious. Jughead looked up. "What are you doing tonight?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Up for a movie?" he asked. To Jug's surprise,

Betty didn't react the way she normally would have.

"Depends," she began, putting an a mittened hand on her hip. "Are you asking me because you want to go with me, or because Veronica is out with Reggie?" Jughead grinned.

Smart girl. Archie, on the other hand, looked less than amused.

"C'mon, Betty!" he half-mocked. "This is _me_ here! Archie Andrews! You remember. The man you pine for?" Betty scoffed.

"Don't give me that. After what you did yesterday, I shouldn't even be speaking to you. And you're a _boy_, Andrews. Not a man."

Jughead laughed out loud, and when Archie shot him a glare he felt almost guilty. But it was true. Betty was right.

"Betty, come _on_!" Archie said, exasperated.

"No, Archie. _YOU_ come on! You asked _me_ out on a date. Nothing unusual: I pay for your gas and we drive to Pop's. We order a cheap snack. I pick up the tab, of course.

Then Veronica comes walking in, and you leave. And what's more--she told me you offered to take _HER _to an expensive French restaurant!"

Archie didn't even have the sense to look embarrassed. Jughead rolled his eyes.

"Help me out, here, Jug!" he called.

"From her story, she's right! You're an oblivious jerk!" Jughead yelled, regretting it as soon as it came out of his mouth. Archie and Betty both stared at him.

After an agonizing moment of no one speaking, Betty grinned. Archie picked up his jacket, glaring at Jughead all the while, and tossed a snowball hard at his face before turning

and stalking off.

Once he was a safe distance away, Betty turned to Jughead.

"You're the best, Juggie," she said, smiling. He scratched at his left arm nervously.

"Thanks, Bets. You're pretty great, too. I just can't believe Archie can't see that."

"How about some hot chocolate?" Betty asked. Her cheeks were tinted a slight pink, and Jughead didn't know if it was from his comment or from the cold.

The two teenagers were fighting a losing battle. The snow beat at their faces and they could hardly walk. It was up to their knees. Suddenly, Betty started laughing. Jughead

looked up, alarmed.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"It's freezing!" Betty giggled. "And you're not wearing gloves, a scarf, or anything!"

"I'm wearing a jacket," Jughead replied, raising his eyebrows and smiling. Betty unwound her scarf.

"Here. You need it more than me," she said as she wrapped it around his neck. Jug grinned.

"Thanks, Bets." They continued on until they reached fourth avenue.

"I don't think we're gonna make it!" Betty laughed. "We'd better stop here until this calms down." She turned right and Jughead wondered briefly where she was going before

recognizing Veronica's house.

Betty rapped smartly on the door, but with her mittens on, the sound was muffled quite a bit. She didn't seem to realize this and after a few moments she made to knock again.

Jughead caught her hand before she touched the door and she looked up. He grinned and knocked on the door.

"We're here to see Veronica," Betty said with a grin.

"Masters Jones and Cooper," Smithers announced grandly.

"It's us!" Jughead called, holding his arm out so that Betty could walk inside before him. He unwound the scarf and handed it to her, but she refused it.

"Keep it." He grinned and put it back on.

"Miss Lodge is in the third living room," Smithers said. Betty and Jughead looked at each other.

"Is that the one next to the elevator?" Betty asked with a grin.

"Living Room number three is the den between kitchen number six and Miss Lodge's bedroom."

"Oh. Third floor, then," Betty told Jughead, tossing him a smile.

He exaggerated a loud groan and started up the spiraled staircase.

They walked into the room just in time to find Veronica and Archie in the same chair, doing a perfect impression of...some very romantic wrestlers.

"Oh," Betty said quietly. Jughead grabbed her hand.

"Let's go," he said, pointing her in the direction of Ronnie's room.

"That was vaguely disturbing," Jughead said, breaking the silence. Betty smiled and touched her lips. Jughead knew that she was wishing it had been her.

"Betty, please stop thinking about him," he pleaded, grabbing both of her hands and giving them a shake.

"I-I'm sorry, Juggie. I really am."

It was a while before he realized he was still holding her hands. He hastily let go.

"The snow is letting up," he said quietly. "Want to brave it?"

"Are you crazy?" Betty laughed, getting off the grand four poster bed and walking to the door. "I'm in my best friend's house and I haven't said a word to her!" Jughead started

to stop her, but then decided against it. He pretended he didn't see her wipe hastily at her eyes.

Archie was kissing her neck.

"Hello!" Betty called brightly. Veronica stumbled off of him and Archie almost pissed himself in terror.

"God!" she breathed, her hand touching her chest. "I thought you were Daddy!" Jughead laughed at Betty's bluntness.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't realize..." she began, grinning at him. Veronica took hold of Betty's hands.

"Betty dear! When did you get here? Archie and I have been in here for ages." It was an attempt to make her jealous. Archie watched closely.

"Juggie and I were here about a half hour ago," she said with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "We knew you were here, but we just didn't want to interrupt you, you looked so _comfy_." Here she waggled her eyebrows and Jughead burst into laughter.

"Juggie and you?" Veronica asked, acknowledging his presence for the first time that day. Jughead knew she didn't like him.

"Yep," he said, forcing a smile. Veronica ignored him.

"Whatever brought you in, my dear?" she asked.

"It was cold. Snowstorm, y'know. We wouldn't have survived if not for your big fancy estate."

"Well," Veronica replied. "It's not snowing anymore." This, Jughead knew, was a subtle but strong suggestion that Betty leave.

"Well, thanks for sharing your house," Betty said, a fake smile on her lips. "'Kay, then. If you want us to go." Veronica smirked.

Only ten minutes outside and it was really coming down again. Betty swore loudly.

"It's so COLD!" she screamed. "I need more body heat!" Jughead's heart beat a little faster at the implications of what she had just said.

"We can stop. Y'know...warm up?" he suggested, choosing to react to her sentence. She turned to him.

"It's too cold to warm up."

"Not if we...y'know. Try to warm up?" Betty giggled. She thought he was trying to be funny. His heart sank a little but she stopped anyways.

"Let's warm up," she suggested, moving over to the field of snow that used to be the grassy park.

Betty led Jughead to the swings and sat down. He followed suit and soon they were laughing and swinging. Betty had reached an impressive height.

"Feel all warm inside?" Jughead asked her playfully. Betty laughed.

"I'm with YOU, aren't I?"

Jughead stopped swinging his feet suddenly and Betty looked at him.

"Yeah..." he said quietly, grinning to himself. Jughead didn't see her blush.


	2. Chapter 2: Archie and Reggie

It was the second time today she had him pinned. She took a second to toss her blonde hair over her shoulder, throwing off her hat in the process.

"Dammit, Jughead, I **_TOLD_** you to stop it!" she screamed. He would have cringed at the intensity of her voice, had she not been grinning widely as she yelled it out. Instead, he wiggled a little under her, pretending to try and get out. She held his arms and he pouted.

"Sorry?" he tried. She smirked. All he had done was toss a few snowballs...he had even tried deliberately not to hit her. He pondered this a moment before acknowledging their position.

His eyes widened, just slightly, as she continued breathing in ragged gasps, still tired from having to chase, wrestle, and beat him to the ground. Her scarf was still around his neck and she had unzipped her jacket after a few minutes' chase. She had a leg on either side of him, her face inches away from his, her arms pinning his to the ground. Breathing. Hard. He looked down for a second--only a second--but it was enough.

He threw her off of himself and jumped up, silently screaming at himself to calm down. _Shit, shit, shit! Why me?! And why now?!_

"What?" Betty asked innocently, rolling over in the snow. Jughead didn't turn to face her.

"Uhh--" he stalled. "Uh...uhh..." _Quick, Jug. Think. THINK! _She had gotten up and was walking over. He watched her bend to pick up her hat. Her shirt...was thin...it was cold...This wasn't helping.

"Um," he thought, facing away, his mouth suddenly dry. "YOU'RE IT!" he screamed, running away. He heard her laugh. Quickly, he zoomed down the street to his house. She was hot on his heels.

_Mom in a bikini. Dad in a bikini, _he thought. _Grandma in a bikini! _He looked down inconspicuously and was relieved to see that he had, in fact, managed to calm himself. He sighed in relief and slowed to a halt, stopping in front of his door.

Betty tackled him again. When she sat up she was giggling madly. Jughead grinned goofily and retrieved his key from his inside pocket. His mom and dad wouldn't be home until Sunday night. Betty untangled herself from his arms and lay in the snow, eyes closed. It was so deep that it reached his ankles, even on his doorstoop, four steps up. School would be out for a while.

He bowed, allowing Betty to walk in before himself. She curtsied and obliged, throwing herself down on his couch.

"It's so cold in here!" she told him as she began to take off her coat.

"The heater isn't on. Come on up to my room: the thermostat is right outside the door and it always warms up the fastest," he grinned. Betty followed him up the stairs. He opened the door for her and turned the heater onto seventy-two degrees. It read twenty-six. He shivered.

Moments later, when he walked into his room, he shivered again. But not from the cold. Betty had stripped down--well, maybe 'stripped down' is a little dramatic, but she HAD taken off her jacket, mittens, boots, shoes, hat, and a pair of pants (she had apparently worn two...how strange.) These articles of clothing were now neatly folded and littered about his room, with Betty on his bed, lying on his pillow, folding up a sweater and tossing it onto the floor.

Had he been an anime character, his nose would have been gushing blood.

"Betty," he said quietly. She smiled at him from the bed before patting the spot next to her.

"It's so warm," she informed him, snuggling up to his favorite pillow. He grinned, realizing that it would carry her scent for days.

She realized he was staring at her and tossed the pillow at him.

"Your hair smells good," he replied, feigning surprise. She giggled.

"Cherry almond," she said, flipping her hair dramatically. He rolled his eyes and lay back against the pillows, closing his eyes. Betty followed suit, and they lay still for a long while.

"Betty," Jughead started, breaking the silence. She hummed in response.

"Do you--" The phone rang. _Damn._ Betty sat up and leaned on one elbow.

"Should I get it?" he asked after a moment, opening one eye and smirking. Betty laughed and got up, walking over to his banana-shaped phone.

"Jughead Jones' room, Betty speaking," she said professionally. Jughead snorted and turned over to watch her.

"Archie?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

Jughead's stomach exploded.

"Yeah. What?" she said coldly. He found himself grinning. "What do you mean, what am I doing here?!" There was a pause. "Yes, I said I was in his room." (Pause.) "Yes, I am!" (Pause.) "What am I doing with _Jughead_? What am I doing with _JUGHEAD?!_ Well, YOU weren't complaining earlier, tongue-wrestling with Ron-Ron on the couch, now were you?" This time, there was an unusually long pause. Jughead was sure neither one of them was speaking. It was tense and silent in the room. "I'll do what I _damned_ well please, Andrews," she hissed before slamming the receiver onto the base.

Jughead stayed quiet as Betty wiped at her eyes, facing away from him. He ignored her shallow breaths, not knowing quite what to say.

Immediately, the phone rang again. Betty turned around, huffed angrily, and picked up the receiver before dropping it again. Jughead grinned.

"C'mon, Jug," she smirked, putting her clothes back on. "I did promise you hot chocolate, no?" He laughed.

"I almost thought you had forgotten."

* * *

Betty sipped thoughtfully at her drink, watching Jug. He turned and looked at her, removing his lips from his straw for the first time in minutes.

"Hmm?" he inquired, swallowing. She smiled and hit him lightly. "What was that for?" he grinned.

"Because you're my best friend," Betty answered, turning back to her drink. They were seated on spinning stools at the counter at Pop Tate's. Surprisingly, the small diner was full of teenagers, apparently seeking shelter from the cold. Pop was in the kitchen. Betty smiled at her hot chocolate, and Jughead noticed, smiling at his own.

Seconds later Archie Andrews walked in the door, with a swooning Veronica attached to his right arm. They headed for a booth in the back and Betty scoffed. Jughead watched her for a moment before grinning and hitting her softly.

"Hey!" she called. "What was that?"

"You're my best friend, too."

After a moment, Betty laughed. "Delayed reaction!" she taunted. He crossed his eyes in mock indignation.

"I just wish Archie wasn't such an ass," Betty sighed, fingering her glass lightly. Jughead's eyes followed her index finger, up and down, circles and squiggled lines...

"Betty," he began. She looked at him. "Archie _is_ an ass. He won't change."

Betty stared at him almost angrily.

"He won't!" Jughead repeated. "He's just an asshole with no feelings at all for anyone with a whole brain."

Betty opened her mouth to reply angrily, but closed it and sighed. Then she laughed.

"You're right. And, plus, I can't be mad at you," she added, grinning and hitting Jug again. "You're my best friend." He smirked and pointed at Archie and Ron's booth.

"They're such teenagers."

"We're teenagers, too," Betty grinned, batting her eyelashes at him. Jughead felt his stomach explode. It took forever for him to react, but when he did, he ran his fingers up her sides lightly. She was ticklish, and he knew it.

She yelped and smacked his arm before collapsing into a fit of laughter that surely got Archie's attention.

"You're horrible!" she giggled, making Jughead scoff, feigning hurt.

"You're just as bad, you lil' teenager," he replied, waggling his eyebrows and pulling more laughter from her.

"You're so cute, Jug," she laughed, putting her elbow on the counter and sticking her tongue out at him. Jughead's grin dropped immediately.

"So are you," he said, all joking gone from his voice. Betty opened her eyes and met his.

"Hi," Archie said, forcing the two to look away from each other. Veronica was still hanging off of him, looking thoroughly unhappy to be there.

"Hello," Betty replied brightly, causing him to raise an eyebrow. Jughead hastily turned away, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Betty," Archie smirked, looking at her. Her face was stoic.

"Andrews," she answered. His smile faltered and Reggie walked in, as if on cue.

"Hey, Bets!" he called, as if all he had noticed was her. She waved and smiled, turning away from Archie.

Reggie walked up to Veronica and planted a kiss smartly on her cheek before taking hold of Betty's hand and meeting her lips with his and plopping down next to her.

Jughead felt sick. He turned away, spinning his stool to face Veronica, who was now standing with her arms crossed below her chest, glaring at the ceiling as if she was too important to be in the vicinity of the middle class.

_Reggie, _he thought angrily, spitting the word in his mind.

Jughead, about to puke, stole a peek at Betty before getting up, downing his hot chocolate, and simply leaving.

To his surprise, he heard feet pounding on the snow only moments later, following him. He turned to acknowledge whoever it was.

Betty.

He didn't know if he even wanted to speak to her right now. His stomach was in knots. He merely smiled and continued walking, quickening his pace ever so slightly.

"HEY!" Betty called, running now.

_Shit._

"Hey," she repeated, beaming at him and taking his arm. "Let's go get a pizza." He looked at her.

"We were just at Pop's," he informed her incredulously. She smirked.

"We only **_had_** hot chocolate. And I never would have thought _you_ one to pass on food." He grinned and slid his arm down so that she let go and their hands were touching. He tinted red--men don't blush--and wondered if she was feeling the same way he was.

He didn't have much time to ponder that question, seeing as she grabbed his hand after a few seconds, seizing it and bringing it closer to herself.

"Pizza sounds great," he whispered.

Betty swung the plastic bag back and forth, skipping happily. She was holding his hand again. Finally they reached her house and she pushed the door open.

"My parents aren't home," she explained. "My mom is visiting grandma, she's sick, and dad is out on business again."

Jughead watched her for a few minutes as she put the leftover pizza carefully on the top shelf of her neat refrigerator, grabbed some popcorn from the cupboard and stuffed it into the microwave, flopped down on the couch and beamed at him. He contemplated for a moment before taking a deep breath and asking.

"So...what's up with you and Reggie?"

She choked.

"What?" she asked. He knew she had heard. She was stalling. He simply touched the back of his neck in anxiety, refusing to repeat the question. "Right. Well. Nothing, really."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Okay. So he flirts with me." He rolled his eyes.

"Okay! We flirt!" He raised an eyebrow.

"That's all! Really." Jughead sighed skeptically and she smirked. "Jealous?" she asked, grinning.

Jughead put on a scandalized expression.

"Well, do you like him?" he asked.

"...No," Betty replied after a moment. At Jughead's face she quickly added, "I used to. But now I don't."

"Well, good. Because he's an even bigger ass than Archie."

"Not to me," Betty said quietly, smiling to herself. It was true, though. Never once had Reggie pulled any kind of prank on Betty.

"Any more questions, Mr. Good-cop, Bad-cop?" she asked, raising one eyebrow with a smirk.

Jughead faltered, not having enough courage to ask the final question that was on his mind, beating at his brain and threatening to explode out his nose if he didn't open his mouth soon.

_You think I'm cute? Really? _


	3. Chapter 3: Saw and Sunrise

**Sorry, forgot about this part:**

**Archie & Co. are not mine. I wish they were, but...alas. Such is life. And sorry for all the breaks and scene changes. I tried to make it kind of interesting, yano?**

After a moment or two Betty smirked.

"Good." She fell backwards on the couch, her legs over the armrest. Jughead forced himself to resist the urge to blow a raspberry onto her exposed belly. "You can sit down, you know," Betty told him, lifting her head halfway off the couch. She allowed it to fall back down and Jughead felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he positioned himself next to her.

"You're so weird," he mocked, his expression one of disgust. Betty raised her eyebrows at him. "You sit like a monkey." He pointed to her position and she sneered.

"You sit like a giraffe."

"Giraffes don't sit, smartie."

Betty blinked at him, then grinned. "How do they use the toilet?"

Jughead stared at her incredulously, then burst into laughter.

_Ding!_

Betty sat up, not without difficulty, and looked at Jughead. She rolled her eyes and sighed, retreating into the kitchen and returning with a colorful bowl of popcorn. She turned on the television without looking.

The scene that greeted them when Betty flipped the TV on was one from Sex and the City. Jughead noticed a DVD set under the player. Jughead's face went hot and his eyes widened as Betty placed the popcorn down nonchalantly. She popped a piece into her mouth and fingered the remote lightly.

"Ah, I've seen this," she said with a sigh, and flicked another button. Jughead felt himself breathe a sigh of relief. Betty picked up another piece of popcorn and threw it at him playfully. He scowled at her in mock anger.

"Ow. Thanks a lot, jerk."

"Aww, want me to kiss it better?" Betty batted her eyelashes with a kind smile. Jughead's throat constricted and he swallowed.

"Yes. Yes I do. I demand it, actually." She rolled her eyes and pulled his hand toward her, planting a chaste kiss on one of his fingers and throwing it away from herself again. Jughead smirked at her and she sneered back at him.

"Alright. Pick a movie," Betty said, motioning to the DVD bookshelf to Jug's right. It was carefully organized by genre: comedy, romantic comedy, chick flicks, action, horror, musicals. Jughead thought for a moment, and then picked "Saw II" off of the bottom shelf. He grinned spookily at Betty and showed her the case. Her eyes went wide and she looked from it to him.

"Jug! I hate--"

"I know," Jughead replied, waggling his eyebrows. Betty shook her head at him and he pouted. "Pweez?"

"No!"

"_Pweeez?_"

"No, Jug!"

"_Pwitty, Pwitty, _Pweez?"

"Jughead, stop it! I'm not going to watch a horror movie!"

* * *

Betty shrieked and buried her face in the pillow on her knees. Jughead made a loud groaning noise and she peeked out at him. 

"That's not funny, Forsythe."

"HEY," Jughead said loudly, wagging a finger at her. "NO cracks about the NAME, Cooper!" Betty giggled and threw her pillow at him. And then a loud scream came from the direction of the television. Betty, without her pillow, grabbed Jughead's arm and pulled it to her chest, screeching and covering her eyes with his fingers.

Jughead tried to calm her down, despite the fact that _his_ heart was beating _twice_ as fast as hers. "God, Betty! It's only a movie!" Betty was shaking her head and holding Jughead's hand as tightly as she could, shielding her face with it and pressing his arm firmly to her chest. Not that he was complaining. He was currently trying to hide his doofy grin from her line of vision. (Actually, it wasn't that hard. Her eyes were shut so tight she couldn't have seen his smile if she wanted to.)

"Betty, don't be so--"

_SHRRIEEEKK!_

Betty screamed with the victim on the screen, whimpering immediately afterwards and moving closer to Jughead.

"Help, Jug! Help, help, help, h--"

_SHRRRRIIIIEEEKK!_

Betty screamed directly after the actor, hugging Jughead's body close to her own and hiding her face in his arm. By this time Jughead's heart was about to rip through his skin. He was sure Betty could hear it. She was _right there._

"Betty. You're such a wimp. Calm down," Jughead told her firmly, grinning at her childish reactions to a simple movie.

At the next scream Betty held him so tightly that Jug's instinctive reaction was to wrap an arm around her. He regretted it immediately.

He was sure she was going to jump away from him, or look at him with a disgusted expression, or at the very least tense up. Instead she simply grabbed the hand that was dangling around her shoulders and brought it closer to herself, effectively making his grip on her tighter.

Jughead was positive he was about to have a heart attack.

He, once again, analyzed their position. He was sitting on the very edge of the couch, right next to the armrest, and the other side was completely empty. Betty was almost on top of him, sitting on her knees. Her head was buried in the crook of his neck and she was mumbling in a high pitched voice into his shoulder. She was hugging him tightly and his arm was wrapped around her waist. His heart gave a jolt at this realization.

As the movie went on, Betty became able to look at the screen for bursts of 10 seconds at a time. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and she sat with her legs up on the couch. She insisted that Jughead keep his arms around her and every now and then she would scream or whimper and throw her head back into the crook of his neck. Until the credits began to roll, of course.

* * *

The next thing Jug knew, he was just waking up. For a moment he had no idea in hell where he was, until he caught sight of the VCR clock. 5:26. He vaguely wondered what had woken him up. And then Betty kicked him again. He groaned and rubbed his side, moving her fuzzy-socked feet away from him. He was about to go back to sleep when she kicked him again. This time he swatted her legs away from himself. To his surprise, she woke up immediately. 

And fell off the cuoch.

"OUCH!" she yelped, pulling the blankets down with her as she fell. She rubbed her bottom and glared at Jughead, who was by this time laughing whole-heartedly. She smacked his leg and held out her hands for him to pull her up, which he attempted. However, as he tried to pull her onto the couch, she simply pulled him down onto the floor. He hit the carpet with a _THUMP._

"Gee, you don't have to be so cruel," he mocked, sticking out his tongue. She shot him a look of her own and then crossed her arms stubbornly. "Go back to sleep," Jughead mumbled, climbing onto the couch after her.

"Sleep?"

"Yes, sleep!" Jughead countered. "It's what everyone else is doing at 5:30 in the morning."

"Jug. The sun's about to come up!" Betty said matter-of-factly, gesturing out her curtained windows. He nodded.

"So?"

* * *

They were at the park, on the big hill they all used to play on as kids. Except...it was snow-covered. And they were watching the sunrise. 

"This is so fantastic," Betty grinned, clapping her hands together as she marvelled at the blues and pinks overhead.

"The snow is what makes it _really_ fantastic," Jughead added. And then he looked at her. Her eyes were bright with delight and interest, her cheeks and nose flushed with cold and excitement. She looked like a little girl in line to see Santa Claus. Betty was just so...so _adorable,_ that sometimes Jughead couldn't stand it. He either wanted to smack her with something or to embrace her and just laugh and laugh and laugh. So he did.

He shoved a handful of snow into her perfect, smiling face.

"JUGHEAD YOU BASTARD!" she sputtered, shaking snow from her shirt. It would've hurt if she hadn't been so pretty.

How many times had Betty pinned him in the last 2 days?

...Well, add one.

She laughed as she held him still, but all he needed was _one opening._

And then he remembered. He raised one hand and poked her gently in the ribs. She shrieked and fell backwards, allowing him to flip her over. Betty's girly ticklishness was a fact known only to an elite group of people.

Jughead taunted her as he ran his hand over her stomach and sides, causing her to writhe underneath him, begging him to stop.

"Please, Jug! P-Please!" she gasped. Finally, he obliged. She panted underneath him. Surprisingly, he, too, was winded slightly.

She sighed and flipped over so that she was on her stomach and Jughead was hovering next to her. She smiled at him and Jughead had that queer feeling again: the one where he couldn't decide whether he wanted to hit her or hug her.


	4. Chapter 4: Irrational Jealousy

**Apologizing in advance for the lame line referencing Betty's Party. Alliteration is key!**

**PS: not mine. still. BUT IM WORKING ON IT!**

**PPS: I always lose interest in this story, then read it a few weeks later and fall completely in love with it. Go figure the female mind.**

**Two Weeks Later (at Betty's Birthday Bash) **

Betty stared at Archie, watching him and Veronica wrestle in the same armchair. "It _is_ my birthday, isn't it, Juggie?" Betty asked miserably. His heart sank and he hugged her from behind. He knew that Betty had been planning her party all week, hoping that Archie would somehow see the light that is Betty and sweep her into his arms, carrying her away to the cottage in the woods where they would live happily ever after with their deer, squirrels, talking trees, and seven little people.

"Don't worry, Betty. I love Archie, but he's seriously oblivious. Betty sighed and held his forearms for a moment. Jughead was almost embarrassed when she let go, forcing him to let go as well.

A tear slid down Betty's cheek, and Jughead cursed Archie mentally, glaring at his best friend's back. Er, his _previous_ best friend's. Archie was now spending so much time with Veronica, and so much time making Betty cry, that Jughead had sort of moved in to take Veronica's place as Betty's best friend. Betty and Jughead were now closer than ever. Watching a second tear dip down her face made Jughead feel helpless: almost as if HE was the one causing her pain.

"Betty," Jughead began. She looked up. "Come on, Betty. It's a party. It's YOUR party! Cheer up." She forced a smile and Jughead winced. "Ew! Come on. Give me a _REAL_ smile." Betty frowned and tried again. Jughead made a face and she giggled. "See? There! That wasn't so hard!" he laughed. Betty hugged him.

"You're so great."

Jughead grabbed a third piece of cake from the table and Archie looked up. Jughead pointedly avoided his gaze. Betty let go of him and stared at the cake in his hand.

"Happy birthday to you," Jughead sang quietly. Betty grinned. "Happy birthday to..." Here he dipped his finger in the cake. "You." Betty narrowed her eyes, not liking where this was going. "Happy BIRRRTHDAYY, dear BEEETTTEEEEEEEEE..." he bellowed, causing a few people to look up. Even Veronica threw a glance in his direction.

"Happy birthday," he grinned. He positioned his hand in front of Betty's face, and she leaned backward in surprise. He rubbed his finger along the tip of her nose and coated it in purple frosting. He smiled. "To you." Betty squealed, but didn't touch the cake on her nose. Instead she dipped the heel of her own hand into the plate.

"Happy birthday to me!" she giggled, throwing her hand out to touch Jughead's cheek. He leapt out of the way just in time. He grabbed her hand and pushed it onto her own face. Betty sputtered and laughed, and Jughead picked up one more piece of cake from the table. This time he simply angled it vertically and pushed it into her. Betty opened her mouth in surprise.

"Forsythe P. Jones!" she hissed. He let out a mock-squeak and hopped away from her. After a few minutes' chase, she quickly cornered him between the refrigerator and the island in the middle of the kitchen.

"Careful now, Betty. Don't get your pretty hands dirty. I believe you were telling me how you got a manicure especially for this occasion?" he grinned. Betty's smile faltered, but she quickly regained it with even more confidence.

Jughead stared, wondering what she was going to do. For a brief moment his heart stopped beating as he realized she was leaning in closer to him.

Betty wiped her cheek all over the side of his face. She had to stand on tiptoe and lean her hands on his chest to create the proper height. This surely caught Archie's attention.

"Hey!" he yelled, but Veronica stopped him.

**Archie**

"They could never be more than friends, Archie," Veronica said irritably. But he was unconvinced. He watched bitterly as Jughead placed the cake back onto the table. Betty dipped her hand into it just as he turned to Veronica.

"How can you be sure?" he asked her. She sighed, obviously miffed that the conversation had veered away from her favorite subject: _herself_.

"I'm sure, okay? They're just friends. Really good friends. And they're only playing." She waved an expensive hand towards the two, rolling her eyes.

Archie stared as Jughead threw a piece of cake into Betty's face. He turned back to Veronica, the nonchalance gone from his expression. "What if they're not? It looks like they're flirting to me."

"Oh, what do _you_ care?" Veronica asked bitterly. "I believe you were talking about the school dance on Friday?" She placed her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. Archie flushed a shade of pale red and Veronica leaned back, satisfied. They were getting into pleasant conversation again when Betty ran past him, her arm brushing his. Jughead was laughing, a good four feet ahead of her, and it made his blood boil for reasons he couldn't explain. Jughead was no competition of his.

This was Jughead: the woman-hater. Jughead: his best friend. Jughead: the guy who would rather kiss a dead fish than a pretty girl. Lost in his thoughts, Archie barely noticed that they were so close. That is...not at first.

**Jughead**

Both sides of Betty's face were wiped virtually clean (of course there were thin lines of purple still), but the middle of her head was still covered in icing. His cheeks were undoubtedly splattered with it as well. Just the idea made him laugh. He figured she was done, so when she leaned in a third time he freaked out.

Her face was inches from his, and she paused. He figured that she had realized their lips were about to touch, and she backed off, bright red. Jughead saw this as an opportunity. In one swift movement he had swiped cake from a passerby and plopped it carelessly on top of her head. She shrieked loudly, running to the sink to wash the cake off of her once-perfect hairdo.

Jughead was behind her as she did so. She flicked a few beads of water at him in mock anger and then smirked.

"You look so funny right now," she said simply, squeezing the purple-tinted water from her hair. Jughead poked his tongue out from between his lips.

"You look funny all the time," he teased. Betty pretended to be hurt, raising a hand to her chest and opening her mouth in a perfect "O" shape. Then she unhooked the water hose from the sink and splashed him with just a little. He yelped and stepped back, instinctively grabbing at his shirt. She giggled.

"Betty?"

Jughead turned around, ignoring his appearance for the time being. Archie had just walked up behind them, Veronica at his side, arms crossed and jewelry dangling from her wrists and neck.

"Hm?" Betty mumbled, continuing to wash her hair over the sink.

"...Um, what are..."

"What, Archie?" she said suddenly, flipping around so that her wet hair hit him in the face when she turned. He winced and then recovered quickly.

"Er, happy birthday," he finished lamely. Jughead could've swore Archie shot him a look before putting his hands in his pockets and giving her a quick peck on the lips.

* * *

After the party, Jughead had stayed behind to help clean up. It was 5:00 on a Saturday evening, and he was currently wiping down Betty Cooper's living room coffee table. Streaks of dried purple icing still clung to his hair, causing different chunks to stick together messily. He frowned and scrubbed harder at a certain area on the corner of the table, mumbling to himself as he did so. He huffed angrily and wiped his forehead, another purple streak appearing above his eyebrow. He heard Betty laugh and stood up, looking around. She waved at him from the kitchen. 

"You look like such a dork," she told him, furrowing her brow. She had a wet towel in her hand, and she passed it once over his face before tossing it onto his head. He rolled his eyes.

"That's your fault, actually," he scolded. She shook her head.

"_You're_ the one that put the cake on me in the first place!" Jughead opened his mouth to argue, then shut it with a grin. That much was true. He rubbed at his hair furiously with the towel, pausing only to glance at Betty. She was sitting on the couch, bent over with her elbows on her knees and her fists supporting her chin. Her smirk was the size of Texas. Jughead sneered at her and threw the now-purple towel at her face.

She gasped and dodged, causing the rag to hit the side of the immaculate couch, leaving a purple imprint. She turned angrily towards Jughead, who was sitting innocently beside the coffee table, scrubbing away. He heard her sigh and leave the room, and he smiled to himself. He was so absorbed in that one spot on the corner of the table that he didn't hear her come up behind him.

"Oh, Jugggieee," she sang. He turned around and immediately felt (and heard) the cold, wet, "SPLAT" of a third towel being plopped onto his face. When he removed it she was standing behind him, wearing the adorable half-smile of a second-grader that made Jughead's heart melt. She must have noticed the softening in his expression, because her smile widened and Jughead's vision was obscured once again by a wet towel, this time a hot one. He swiftly turned his head, letting out a sharp yelp and sending the towel flying onto the table, and she giggled at his reaction. He glared at her and Betty plucked the cold rag from his hand and the hot one from on top of the coffee table.

She swiped the hot towel once over his face, then buried the cold one in his hair and rubbed hard. He grumbled something about her having no perception of pain, but she ignored him and continued rubbing at his head.

He began to like it.

When she was finished she lifted the unintelligible purple blob as if to show him what he had done to it, then let out a loud laugh and tossed it thirty feet, onto the kitchen tile. Jughead watched it fall and then looked back to her, unsure of what to do for the rest of the night. It was only 5:22, anyway. After a minute of watching Betty scratch at the purple imprint on the couch (the one Jug had made, mind you), a phone rang.

Jughead immediately reached for his cell, then realized that he had turned his phone off, not wanting to be distracted from Betty's party for one minute. No sooner had he made this realization than Betty snapped her pink Razr shut and beamed at him.

"Vamanos a Pop's!" she giggled.

* * *

Jughead was sitting in his room, on his bed, leaning on his favorite pillow. If you will recall, it now smelled of a certain blonde haired, blue eyed Miss Betty Cooper. Next to Jughead was a single, styrofoam To-Go box. It was half open and inside was approximately two fifths of a burger, a handful of French fries, and a tomato. After dinner, Betty had expressed an intense desire to sleep. It was 8:50.

Jughead escorted her home, being the gentleman that he was, and she had stood on her front step for thirty seconds, simply looking at him. Then she handed him her single styrofoam box (he had of course finished his dinner at the restaurant). After he took it from her, she opened her door. Jughead had stared. Then she had reached out her hand for him to take. He grabbed it, of course, not wanting to appear rude, but he also had about a million and twelve angry swarming butterflies exploding around his stomach. She had given his hand a light squeeze, smiled, and then gone inside.

He had stood there like an idiot.


	5. Chapter 5: A Devious Plot

**Disclaimer: Hooray, you guys! I finally own Archie Comics! Except, not really. Sigh. There go my hopes and dreams.**

When Jughead woke up, it was already seven o' clock the next morning. He realized that it was Monday. Jughead yawned and grabbed for his phone, realizing (at last) what had jolted him awake. When he flipped open the primitive LG, however, he found that no one was calling him. He whipped around clumsily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

It was then that he spotted Betty's girly pink Razr. He blinked a few times, then grabbed it and flipped it open.

"H'lo?" he mumbled.

"Jughead?" came the voice from the other side. Jug stifled another yawn.

"Hello, Mrs. Cooper."

"You sound tired, dear. Where is Betty? What are you two doing together so early this morning?" Jughead flushed at the implications of that question.

"She-she's not here."

"That's odd."

"She left her phone with me yesterday, I guess."

"Tell her that Veronica wants to see her after school, will you, Jughead, dear?" Jughead nodded, then, realizing that she couldn't see him, told her he would. As soon as Betty's mother hung up, he flopped backwards onto his bed. He had not five mintues' respite until the phone rang again. Jughead groaned.

"H'lo?"

"Juggie!"

"Hi, Betty!" Jughead said. He found himself sitting up immediately, almost as if she had walked into the room. The sleepiness was gone from his voice.

"I was calling my phone to try to figure out where it was."

"I guess you found out," Jughead laughed. Betty laughed, too.

"I'm coming over to get it," she said. Jughead was about to stop her, to tell her that he would bring it over. But his pillow was beginning to smell like himself again.

* * *

Jughead was just getting out of the shower when the doorbell rang. 

"Shit!" he whispered to himself, throwing a pair of boxers on and wrapping his towel around his torso. He ran down the stairs at light speed, getting to the door just as it rang a second time. Jughead threw the towel over his head for a minute, ruffling his hair in an attempt to make it look more attractive, then draped the towel over his shoulders and opened the door.

Betty's eyes went immediately to him, widened slightly, then narrowed. "Sexay," she smirked. Jughead felt himself blush.

They stood like that for a few seconds. Then Jughead seemed to start thinking again, and he stepped aside to let her in. She was dressed in a wool and suede jacket, a plaid skirt, and black leggings with fuzzy boots. She had left her mittens at home. They had become unnecessary, seeing as winter was now fading into spring. She lowered her hood as she came inside, and Jughead closed the door behind her. She lazily unzipped her jacket to reveal a tight black turtleneck, and Jughead found himself drooling.

"Aren't you going to put some pants on, Forsythe?" she grinned. Jughead blushed again and bolted up the stairs, towelling his hair as he went.

When he left his room, Betty was sitting on the couch and waiting for him. He pulled on his Riverdale hoodie as he came down the stairs. Betty got up and picked up her bag. "School time?" she asked him. He groaned in response and she rolled her eyes.

It was mostly quiet as they went. They usually walked to school together because Betty lived in the house directly behind Jughead. She always walked all the way around the block instead of hopping the fence, though. She said things like that weren't "lady like." Jughead noticed, today, that the two of them were walking just a bit closer than normal. With every other step his shoulder would brush against hers. She seemed to notice as well, for her cheeks were tinged pink and she was smiling ever so slightly.

* * *

Betty ran her hand through Jughead's hair for the third time that class period. 

"Betty!" Jughead hissed, batting her hand away. She smiled at him.

"I like it when it's messy." He rolled his eyes and planted his trademark crown firmly on his head.

"No hats in class, Jughead," Ms. Grundy told him sternly. Jughead shot a warning look at Betty and took it off. She began to run her fingers through his hair again. Jughead sighed, giving up. He wasn't listening to the teacher. Sitting next to Betty usually had this effect on him. He probably wouldn't do very well on next week's test. The other reason he couldn't concentrate was that it was the period before lunch. And, seeing as how he had been distracted by Miss Cooper, he had missed breakfast. It was a first for Jughead. He could smell the chili on the other side of the school.

This was agony.

There was a knock on the classroom door and Ms. Grundy glanced towards it, eyebrows furrowed. After a moment's hesitation she stepped over and opened it.

"Ah, hello, Nancy!" she greeted warmly, stepping aside to allow the student into the classroom.

"I have an announcement to make!" Chuck's girlfriend said proudly. The entire class was watching her, grateful for the break in the absolute boredom that was History class. "There's going to be a school dance on Friday. We just got it approved on Sunday. We had to spend all last week talking to the Bee," here she rolled her eyes, "but he just wouldn't let us have one. So we ended up leaving him notes everywhere he went, and stopping by his office between classes, getting his secretary and the assistant principal to tell him we needed it while the Bee just kept on--"

"Yes, Nancy, we understand," Ms. Grundy said with a grimace.

"Oh, yes, right. Well, okay. The theme is aviation. We'll see you Friday!" she went swiftly out of the room, her curly black hair bouncing as she walked. Betty laughed as her friend left.

"Nancy's so talkative."

"_Loquacious_."

"Gesundheit."

Jughead rolled his eyes and turned to the teacher, a tiny smile playing across his lips. Betty rubbed at his head again.

**_BRRIINNG._**

Jughead's eyes and ears perked up as he heard the bell. He snapped his backpack from under his desk and ran towards the door, pausing to wait for Betty.

"Hurry up, _hurry up!_" he called to her, upset. She laughed at him and pretended to go slower. "Food is no joke, Betty! Move!" He actually went over to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her along. She let out a yelp and almost dropped a notebook, zipping up her backpack with one hand while both trying to run to the lunchroom and hanging onto Jughead with the other hand. They sped through the halls until a freshman took the initiative to inform Betty that her backpack was opening once again.

"Jug, stop! I'm going to drop stuff!"

"We're almost there, Betty!"

"_Jughead!_"

"_Betty!_"

"Ah! My chemistry notebook! Jug, stop! _STOP!_" Jughead paid her no heed.

That is, of course, until she wrapped both arms around his neck. She had him pulled as close to her body as physically possible. The reason he stopped was because, firstly, her face (more specifically, half her lips) was pressed to the side of his face. Secondly, her ample chest was pressed against his back. And she was breathing hard. Again. She was simply trying to get him to stop, he knew, by holding him still and refusing to move. She had done it to him before. She had also done it to Archie, Reggie, Moose, and even Dilton. Jughead paused, dumbstruck. Betty cautiously let go of him and picked up her pink and green notebook. Then she resumed her stance next to a frozen Jughead. For a moment she held her hand out for him to pull her along again, and then she waved it in front of his face.

"Hello? Aren't you hungry anymore?"

Her words seemed to awaken him, and he picked up his pace slightly in order to get to the cafeteria before everyone else. He kept his head down to hide his red cheeks.

* * *

There was no denying the fact that Betty ate her lunch very sensually. For instance, she would pick up a strawberry and nibble at the end before taking the whole thing into her mouth. She would suck on her fork while reaching for her drink. She would unconsciously rub at her lips between bites. And she would hit Jughead's inner thigh whenever she crossed or uncrossed her legs. Jug tried to keep his head down and focus on his own food, but he found it incredibly hard to do when Betty was being so unknowingly sexual. Halfway through lunch, he excused himself to go and buy another carton of milk. He hadn't even finished his first one. After grabbing an ice cold soda instead, Jughead hurried out of the lunchroom and pressed the can to his forehead. He let out a long sigh and moved the can to the back of his neck, his cheeks, and to his forehead again. Then he took a deep breath and entered the cafeteria. 

Archie had taken his seat.

"Hey, Juggie!" Betty grinned as he came near. Archie looked up but didn't acknowledge his friend.

"Hi, Arch," Jughead said with a slight nod of his head. Archie nodded back and turned to Betty.

"So, like I was saying, you've heard about the Aviation Dance on--"

"Oh, Juggie, you bought root beer. Did you know that's my favorite?" Betty asked, patting the seat next to her for Jughead to sit down.

"The Aviation Dance is this Friday, Betty, and I--"

"Can I have some, Jug? Please?"

"Well, I guess so. I brought a straw, you can just drink it out of the can if you--"

"Betty, the dance--"

"I love root beer!"

"Uh, I guess you can use the straw if you really--"

"Betty, If you haven't already got a date, I'd like to--"

"Yummy. Hey, I thought you wanted milk."

"Well, I hadn't finished the milk I already--"

"Betty, the Aviation dance? Are you--"

"Here. Have some. I don't know, I think it tastes different than normal."

"Are you going to take the straw or--"

"Betty! Would you please go to the dance with--"

"Archiekins!"

Veronica was model-stomping through the cafeteria, her four-inch black pumps making a loud clicking noise on the tile. She had on obnoxiously red lipstick and she smiled at Archie in a coy way, fluttering her eyelashes. She sat down next to him, ignoring Jughead and Betty completely. She wasted no time, Jughead realized, and started off by tickling Archie underneath the chin and then placing both hands on his thighs. Archie laughed nervously. It was the effect Veronica had on him, and she seemed to enjoy it thoroughly.

"The dance on Friday, Archiekins. You're taking me."

"O-okay," he agreed with a nod.

"In your dad's car. I don't want to be seen in that cheap old jalopy of yours."

"Okay, angel."

"Bye, Archiekins. Bye, Betty. See you after school." She finished with a wave at her former best friend, who had her mouth slightly open and her eyebrows buried somewhere in her hairline. Archie exhaled deeply when Veronica was about thirty yards away. He looked from Betty to Jughead and back again, narrowed his eyes a little, and then smiled and got up.

"Bye, Archiekins!" Betty teased as he walked away. Archie turned around and Betty waved coyly. Archie blinked, forced a smile, and kept walking. Betty's smile dropped almost immediately and was replaced with a sneer. "I hate that girl." Jughead nodded his assent and Betty took another sip out of his root beer. He found himself smiling. They had never shared the same straw before.

* * *

"So, Jug, who are you going to the dance with?" 

Jughead's mouth shot open.

He had been trying to ask her that question all day, and there she was, asking it just as if she was commenting on the weather. The two of them were in the park. The snow was melting now, but there was still just enough to build a fort and fifty or so snowballs. Jughead simply opened and closed his mouth for a few moments.

"N-nobody," he stuttered. _You are such an idiot. I hate you._ he told himself, shaking his head at his answer. A few minutes passed in silence as Betty continued making snowballs. "What about you?" _You're so lame. Just run away and save yourself some dignity._

"Nobody," Betty answered innocently.

A few more minutes passed.

"Who are you going to ask?" she pressed. "Ethel? Joani? Debbie?" Jughead's brain went blank at the mention of his previous flings' names. He found himself unable to speak. Betty looked up at him. "...Or somebody else?" Jughead simply shook his head, his cheeks red and his mouth agape, his eyes pointed at anything but Betty.

"Oookayy." She giggled. Jughead blinked a few times and opened his mouth, trying to regain his ability to speak. "What if I guess?"

Jughead said nothing, only stared at her, and Betty stared innocently back. "No, huh?" Jughead still said nothing. "Listen, Jug, are you okay?" She got up from her snow fort and moved towards him, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. Jughead had to force himself not to shiver at her touch.

"You don't look so good, buddy," she said worriedly, cupping his face in her hands. This did little to help his communicational skills. He merely stared at her, his mouth open. Then he let out a laugh, turning red as soon as he did. "Are you okay?" Betty repeated, turning his head to the left and then to the right. Jughead could have died. He was making himself look like an idiot. A total crazy. He gulped.

"I'm fine." And then he remembered something. He jumped up quickly. "You were supposed to go and talk to Veronica after school!" Betty stared at him, her expression unreadable. Jughead held his head in anxiety, thankful for the change of subject, and pointed at her. "Oh my god, I forgot! And you were--ahh, I'm so stupid!"

She got up and stepped towards him. "You are not stupid," she said firmly, wrapping him in her arms. She took out her phone and sat on the snow-sprinkled grass. "I'll call her, okay?" she said, nodding at Jughead. He hesitantly sat next to her.

It was a few seconds until she talked.

"Hi, Ron. Uh huh. Yeah, I know about the dance," she said, rolling her eyes at the last part. "Oh. Another business date, huh? Uh huh. What? You already asked him, how can I--_What?_ Well, that's a stupid--Ron, no! Ron. Ronnie. _Veronica Lodge._ No." She gave a furtive glance at Jughead. "Yes, I know. Yes, I remember. I _remember._ Okay, I promised, but I don't even like him--no, I mean as a person. I don't like him as a person. Ron, can't you get somebody else? It's not like he's going to...alright. Alright. Okay. I said okay. Yeah. Fine." She hung up without saying goodbye. She sighed deeply, blowing a chunk of hair out of her face. Jughead looked at her.

"You seem to be in dire need of a hug," he said seriously. Betty laughed.

"That I am, Forsythe," she said. He hugged her for at least ten seconds. "So. Guess what," she said, pushing the same lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

"I have no idea. You'll have to enlighten me." She grimaced.

"Ron's got a business date this Friday. Her dad's flying in some potential business partner and his 16-year-old son. He wants Ron to _influence_ him. Again." She looked at Jughead for a reaction, but he showed none. He had no idea where this was going. "As it turns out, Ronnie asked Archie to the dance in order to keep him away from the other girls--Laura, Sarah, Frankie, and Cheryl. He won't go with anybody else now. She's going to bail on him on the day of the dance so it'll be too late for him to find a date. And that's where I come in." Betty finished with a wave of her hand. Her head was down and she was shaking it slightly, a bitter expression on her face. Jughead was looking straight ahead of himself, unsure of what to say.

"Okay," he said lamely, not looking at her.

They were silent for a minute or two while Betty brooded and Jughead stared forward in shock and disappointment.

"So now tell me. Who are you asking?" she grinned. Jughead didn't answer.

He hadn't thought of a backup.


	6. Chapter 6: Teenage Boy Syndrome

TO MISS BARONESS "BAD BONES": I have a proofreader. Except she reads my chapters on her own leisure because she's a lazy fart. (Just kidding, Adrianne.) That accounts for my long periods of non-updated ness. Cough cough.

TO THE REST OF YOU: It has been called to my attention by my beta and a few others that some characters in my fanfiction are in varying degrees of OOCness. Mostly Jughead, who likes a girl. And secondly, Betty, who stopped Archie-obsessing cold turkey. Well, to that, I say "POOH POOH." For this, my friends, is the wonderful world of fanfiction. And I have totally remade the original characters to suit my own needs. And wants. Any resemblance to the actual Archie Comics characters are completely coincidental. (Not really. They're still mostly the original characters. Somewhere deep down in their souls. The souls exist only in my brain.) But seriously, you guys. I appreciate the criticism. It helps a lot.

TO THE REST OF YOU [AGAIN(wtf?): I love you. All 1021 of you. I am so incredibly happy that people actually read this crap.

**And now, the DISCLAIMER:** **I own Archie Comics. In a parallel universe where I am the supreme overlord of the entire comic book world.**

**[Here comes the fan service.

* * *

**

Jughead was going to have to start taking some ju-jitsu classes or something. The fact that a female could pin him to the ground so easily was starting to get more than a little embarrassing. To avoid her question, Jug had ingeniously smashed a handful of snow into Betty's smirking face. She had flipped him over and sat on his stomach without skipping a beat. And there they were.

"Betty. You're lucky you don't weigh anything, or you'd have killed me by now."

"Wow, thanks," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I'll assume that was a compliment."

"That's the easiest thing to do," Jughead affirmed, nodding. Betty laughed.

"So what do we do next?" she asked, leaning forward on top of him. Jughead tinted red again and diverted his gaze for a minute. Her piercing blue eyes were sometimes more than he could handle.

"What the hell do you mean? We could start with you getting off of me."

"...Nah," she replied, looking down at her fingernails. "I'm cool here." Jughead grunted and tried to push her off, but she merely lowered her knees and pushed them into the snow, grinning deviously at him. Jughead grabbed her shoulders in order to fling her off of himself, but she was too quick for him--she took his forearms and threw them above his head, pinning them to the ground as well. He sighed and she giggled.

"Your hair is in my face, smartie," he said after a few seconds. Betty frowned, then flipped her blonde ponytail so that it was on the other side, farther away from Jughead.

"Better?"

"Not really. I'm still stuck in this rather uncomfortable position."

"Naw, you like it," Betty smirked. Jughead's throat constricted and he analyzed their position--something he was doing increasingly often. Betty had her legs spread across Jug's belly. She was sitting with her butt four inches (or less) away from his crotch. She was still wearing that delicious black turtleneck. And Jughead was lying helpless underneath her, his torso pinned under her rump and his arms pinned above his head. He inhaled a little too quickly and freaked out juuusttt a bit, realizing with disdain that he never should have thought about this in depth. He was just barely managing to keep control of himself.

Actually, No.

No, he was getting good at this. Lately everything Betty did seemed very sexual to Jughead. He could do this. He could hang on. He just prayed that she didn't turn around. Or notice his blush. Or move.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked.

_Well, shit._ Jughead had no luck today.

"Nothing."

"You look sick. Tell me what's up." He noticed that she neither let go of his arms or got off of him. He sighed, more than a little frustrated. (No pun intended, thanks.) "What?" she prodded.

"I'm fine! I swear I'm fine." She looked at him skeptically and he struggled to stay calm. She was going to get off of him sooner or later. He couldn't have a pants-tent when she did. That would be bad.

"You liar!" she grinned. "I'm not getting off until you tell me. So divulge, my friend."

She leaned backwards, letting go of his arms, giving him a little peek of her stomach, and brushing his inner thigh with her wrist.

Jughead had no luck today.

* * *

Lately everything that Betty did seemed very sexual to Jughead. Maybe he was suffering from teenage boy syndrome. Or maybe she was doing it on purpose. Maybe she was trying to kill him. 

"What's the matter? You don't want it?" Betty asked.

As Jug walked her home, he had suddenly remembered that he had grabbed two lollipops from the candy jar sitting on top of his refrigerator on the morning before this one. His mother didn't think he knew about it because it was shaped like a chicken and looked like a simple ceramic decoration. But Jug and his nose were too smart for that. He knew that all he had to do was press on the first talon of its right leg for the head to pop open like a little trash can, allowing him to sneak out a piece of candy or two. Or three. And so he did.

He unzipped the outermost pocket on his backpack and extracted them. As he unwrapped the grape flavored sweet, Betty's eyes had widened.

"Do you have another?" she asked. Jughead had handed her his other sucker--cherry.

Biggest mistake of his life.

They were sitting on Betty's couch, reading magazines. Betty had three piled in her lap and was perusing through a copy of Seventeen. Jughead had six piled in his lap and was going through the motions of flipping through Teen Vogue, while staring at her over the cover.

Everything she did was sexual.

There was no doubt about it.

He wanted to rip the lollipop out of her mouth and throw it across the room.

But he also wanted to watch her eat it.

"Don't you want it?" she repeated, pointing to the sucker that Jughead was still holding. He hadn't had it in his mouth for around five minutes. He hastily popped it back in and looked back down at his magazine. He was staring at a picture of what used to be Lindsay Lohan. Now it was a few twigs with skin thrown on top of it. He made a face and turned the page. He much preferred Betty's figure to these girls'. Betty looked human. These girls looked like emaciated, bony, Martians. So when he was sure she wasn't looking at him, he stole another peek at her.

She was twirling the stick around between her thumb and index finger. She popped it out of her mouth to lick the tip, then popped it back in and hollowed her cheeks, removing most of the moisture from the little ball of candy. Jughead was dying. He knew it. She popped the candy back out of her mouth again and rubbed it between her lips, the tip of her tongue running over the left side, and then the right side, and then the left again. He let out an audible groan which she either ignored or didn't hear. He grabbed another magazine from the table and placed it on his lap.

_Dammit._ He was supposed to be getting good at this. He was supposed to be able to exert some self control.

This just sucked.

Betty pulled the candy out of her mouth one last time and gave the tip a lick before looking up at Jughead, who had made up his mind by this time that she was simply trying to kill him. "I'm bored," she whined. A thin string of saliva went from her mouth to the candy, and she extended her tongue and put the lollipop on top of it, swirling it around between her fingers. "Let's do something fun."

"This is fun," Jughead replied without thinking. _Nice, Jug_

"This is lame," Betty snorted, gesturing to the magazines. "C'mon, Jug. We're seventeen. Don't you think we can come up with something more fun to do than read magazines on a boring afternoon?"

One thought flashed through his mind and he mentally slapped himself.

She wouldn't stop sucking on that damned candy.

"Okay. What do you propose we do?" Jughead asked, putting down his edition of Teen Vogue. So he couldn't just wait until Betty finished her lollipop. She was too impatient. Plan B: stall.

"Let's go outside and play."

"It's too cold. I don't have a jacket."

"Party pooper."

"Next."

"Let's go upstairs and play."

All the blood rushed to his groin.

"I got a Wii for Christmas," she taunted, smirking at him.

"I refuse."

As much as he wanted to play that Wii, he was in no position to get up just yet.

"Super party pooper."

"Okay, so what?"

"We could watch a movie."

Jughead suddenly remembered that last movie they had watched together. He had ended up in a situation much like this one. She had entangled herself in him because she had been so afraid of the horror film they were seeing.

That had been a pleasant experience indeed.

"Alright, movie it is. You pick this time," he added hastily.

"Yay!" She stood up and picked up the newspaper off of the coffee table in front of the couch, pulling her skirt down just a little bit before she sat back down.

"What are you doing?" Jughead asked, thoroughly confused.

"Looking at the movie list, smart one," she snorted.

"Betty, I don't want to go _out _to see a movie!" he protested, adjusting the magazines on top of himself. Betty rolled her eyes.

"Pweez?"

"No."

"_Pweez?_"

"_No._"

"_Pwitty, pwitty, pweez?_"

"Betty. _No_. I am not leaving this house."

* * *

"Aren't you glad you came with me?" 

Betty batted her eyelashes at him and he sneered.

"Not particularly, no. That movie was overly stupid." They had seen a romantic comedy. Albeit, one hailed by critics. But it was still romantic. And a comedy. And there was not one chase scene. Jughead's masculinity had been tested for all 128 minutes of the film. And to make matters worse, the only actual physical contact that Jughead had with Betty during those 128 minutes were: A) when she reached for the popcorn (Jug had been holding it, of course) and B) when she crossed or uncrossed her legs. She would smack him with her knee.

"What if I bought you dinner?"

"Well, I do admit that'd change my mind some," Jughead answered. He hadn't eaten anything but snack food in two hours and his stomach was positively empty. Betty snorted.

"Well, too bad. I'm flat broke." She brandished her empty wallet with a smile and pocketed it.

"Too broke to buy a ticket to the Aviation dance?" Jughead threw in. _D'oh_. He could've sworn he was getting stupider every day he spent with her.

"I guess so," she shrugged.

"So then how can you go, if Archie thinks he's going with Veronica? And you can't buy your own ticket?" It's not that he was really interested, just that maybe she would ask him to buy her ticket for her. And then maybe he could hint that he would want her to save a few dances for him. Or just go with him. Hypothetically, of course.

"Well, Ron'll probably give me her ticket or something. Man, I really don't want to go with him." Jughead wisely chose not to respond. "I really wish I could just tell her I had already been asked."

Jughead's stomach exploded. He looked sideways at her, hoping to see her looking back at him, or looking down with a blush, or _something. Something_ that would tell let him know she really was hinting for an invite. He opened his mouth.

And closed it.

Dammit. He had asked girls out before. Okay, not very many. But he had still done it. Betty was looking straight ahead, completely focused on her own thoughts.

"What if you got somebody to ask you?" he ventured nervously. He wasn't sure if he was saying too much or if he wasn't saying enough, but he figured that she would figure it out either way.

"Psh. Wouldn't work. I already told her I'd do it," Betty answered with a grimace. Okay. So he had read too much into it. She hadn't been asking for an invite. He backed off.

"So what's your plan for the dance? Are you actually going to stay with him for the whole night?" Jughead felt he was getting bolder with every question, but he really wanted to know if he had any chance of getting her to go with him instead of his former best friend.

"What's with the sudden interest in my dance plans?" Betty asked, whipping around to interrogate him with her eyes. Jughead paled slightly, but he chose to wait for her answer. "And I really don't know. I'll probably dance with him for a while, then go get some punch and never return." Jughead laughed.

He really had to ask her. This was getting ridiculous.

Betty was going to spend the entire night being miserable if she went with Archie. Jughead was going to spend the entire night being miserable if he went with anybody but Betty. Jughead could simply say that he was asking her so that she would have an excuse not to go with Archie. He could simply say he was asking her so he wouldn't have to listen to her whine about it the next day. But what if she said no? Scratch that. She was _going_ to say no. There was no reason for her not to. Jug wasn't handsome, he wasn't buff, he didn't have a fantastic personality. He wasn't even that tolerable. Not to mention that he always ate all her food. She was _definitely _going to say no. And what the hell was going to happen to them when she did?

Alright. He wasn't going to ask her. Ever. He was going to always stay second best to Archie. He was going to wait for her to fall in love with him all over again and then he was going to watch her get married to him, have kids with him, and live a happy and fulfilled life with him while Jug spent the rest of his life in his mother's basement wondering what could have been. Well, as long as she was happy. Maybe if he was really lucky she'd marry Reggie and Jug could watch her become the beautiful trophy wife to some greasy-haired kid-punching movie-cliche asshole.

Seriously, though. He wouldn't ask her if you paid him.

"Hey! Jug!" Betty said loudly. She had stopped in her tracks around ten feet behind him. He turned around and stared at her.

"What's up?"

"This is my house, genius," she replied with a grin, rolling her eyes. Jug felt his face go hot. So it was.

"Well, then. Is your mom home yet? From visiting your grandma, I mean?" he asked. She looked at him with mild interest, as though she was surprised he had remembered a detail like that.

"Well, yeah. For now. She's going back to Iowa tomorrow afternoon, when I come home from school."

"And your dad?"

"Another week, at least," she answered cooly.

"Are you okay alone?" he asked her, without thinking.

"What?"

"Are you doing alright? Not scared at night, not losing any sleep, not having trouble with the cooking and the cleaning and the empty house?"

"Jug. I'm all grown up," she laughed.

"My phone's on all night, you know. And my house is right behind yours."

Betty stared at him in a way that made him feel like the stupidest person alive. He felt like she was looking into his brain--into his mind--and reading every thought. And that was nerve-wracking because all that he was thinking about was her. And she wasn't saying anything. He swallowed.

"You are so adorable sometimes that I just can't stand it," she said with a grin, shaking her head slightly.

Jughead forgot to breathe.

"I'm okay, Jughead. I'm fine. I'll let you know if I run into any problems, okay?" He said nothing and her smile dropped halfway, making her look sweet, alluring, and entirely kissable all at the same time. "I'll call you later," she added, sticking her key into the door.

After a few seconds of silence as she fumbled with the lock, she swung the wooden door open and looked back at him. Then she gestured for him to come join her on the top step. Jughead didn't move for a few seconds. And then his brain seemed to start functioning again and, as if to compensate for his momentary loss of mobility, he practically ran up the four stairs to the landing.

What happened next took him so by surprise that he must have stood outside her door for a minute and a half.

She stood on her tiptoes, taking hold of his shoulders for better leverage, and pressed her lips softly against his left cheek. As she pulled away her lips lingered beside his ear and she whispered "Thanks."

He was going to ask her.

Tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7: His Question, Her Answer

I got 400 more views in less than a week. How I do love you people.

Review, mmkay?

**Disclaimer: Archie Comics will never be mine. UNLESS THE CREATORS MYSTERIOUSLY AND CONVENIENTLY DIE.**

**

* * *

**

Jughead's fist was parked in midair, approximately six inches from the dark brown door in front of him. He was immobile. He was paralyzed.

_Alright_. He thought. _I'll just turn around. I'll walk away. _He attempted to turn and found himself still unable to move. _I'm running out of time. I can't just walk away!_ He sighed and moved his hand a half inch closer, then pulled it back a good three inches. _Sure you can. RUN._ He was about to obey himself and high-tail it out of there when a cheery voice called out to him.

"Juggie, what the hell are you doing?" Betty asked. Jug looked up. She was hanging out of her bedroom window, her arms crossed and perched daintily on the sill. She was smiling.

"...I have no idea," he answered truthfully, stepping backwards in order to get a better look at her.

"You've been outside my door for at least five minutes. I think you might want something from me," she told him, lifting her hand to support her chin. She flashed him a toothy grin.

"How long have you been there, anyway?"

"Oh, quite a while, Forsythe. Quite a while." She used her free hand to lift the end of her ponytail for inspection, then she procured a hairbrush from somewhere out of Jughead's line of vision.

"Do you plan on letting me in?" he asked, trying a smile of his own.

"...No," she answered, unsuccessfully stifling a giggle. His smile fell. "Oh, shush. The door's open, you dork." She began to brush her hair.

"Am noooottt," Jug whined, twisting the knob. He stepped inside and closed the door behind himself, his heart beating quite a bit faster than normal. He sighed and shook his head. _I like it when it's messy,_ he remembered with a jolt. He snatched his beanie off the top of his head and ran both hands through the hair, choosing not to replace his hat and to keep it in his left hand instead.

"Where are you?" Betty called from her room.

"Here!" Jughead answered, taking a step into the living room. Her head popped out from inside a door on the upstairs floor, and she waved at him.

"Two minutes. I need two minutes," she told him. Jughead glanced around the immaculately decorated room and took a seat on the white couch. Amazingly, the purple cake stain had disappeared.

"Oh, hello, Jughead."

Jug flipped around quickly, startled by the second voice. Mrs. Cooper was wearing a bathrobe and had appeared from the kitchen. She smiled at him in a maternal way. "I only made breakfast for Betty, but I could throw the rest of the bacon into the pan if you'd like." She held up a full package of bacon and a carton of eggs and Jughead laughed.

"It's alright, Mrs. Cooper. I'll eat later." As much as he wanted that bacon, he didn't want to impose.

"DONE!" Betty called, hopping down the stairs. Jughead turned his head and his mouth opened involuntarily. Today she was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt with a robot on it. The fact that something so simple could look so good on her didn't surprise him. Everything seemed to look good on her. He found himself grinning with the realization that the robot's body was the same color as her eyes.

* * *

"Don't I usually come to your house in the mornings?" Betty asked him, cocking her head to the side as they walked. Jughead adjusted his backpack, choosing not to look at her. He wouldn't have been able to speak, he was sure. 

"Well, yeah." _But I had to ask you a question. _"But I--" He looked down at her. Her expression was one of interest and curiosity. "I, uh...I was done early." _You are such an idiot. _Jughead grimaced. He was getting tired of his own mental chastising. Betty's expression was now dripping with skepticism.

"Uh huh. Are you going to tell me the truth or are you going to make up more falsities?"

"Who says 'falsities'?"

"Don't flip this around on me, buddy," Betty teased, hitting his arm lightly. "C'mon. We're best friends."

Jughead took a deep breath. It was time to plan this thing out. Today was Thursday. The dance was tomorrow night. If he could only ask her today, it would give her enough notice to warn Veronica ahead of time. He just had to ask her early enough.

Unfortunately, all the logic in the world couldn't quite get him to say what he needed to. His words kept getting stuck at the base of his neck.

"Please?" Betty asked, sticking out her lower lip and batting her eyelashes. Jughead melted.

"I--"

"_Please?_"

"I just wanted to ask you a question," he answered. In his mind, he was attacking himself with a chainsaw. There was a slight pause.

"Well?" Betty prodded. He could hear the smirk in her voice. He wondered vaguely if she knew already the question that he was struggling to ask.

"It--it doesn't matter, I figured it out on my own."

Betty sighed. "Well, fine. Just let me know when you're ready to tell me the truth, okay?" He winced.

"Okay."

* * *

Jughead spent the rest of the school day attempting to work up enough courage to invite Betty to the Aviation dance. He failed miserably. He would tell himself that he had forgotten, and then he would ignore his own suggestions and not bring it up at all. It was now 1:38. 

"Yoo-hoo! Betty!" Jughead looked up from his paper plate of spaghetti and saw Veronica sliding into the seat across from him. Betty was staring at her with one eyebrow cocked, noodles dangling out of her mouth. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"I guess so," Betty answered, swallowing. "Not really."

"Oh, don't worry, dear, you'll have a great time." She shot Jughead a look and lowered her voice. Jug could still hear every word. "Who is _he_ going with?"

"I'm not sure. You could try asking him." Betty smiled at her and impaled a meatball with her spork. Her ex-best friend rolled her eyes and Betty cleared her throat. "Jug," she asked. "Who are you taking to the dance?"

He had planned out an answer to this. It had taken him a half hour.

The only problem was that he couldn't recall anything that he had thought to say. He opened his mouth, reddened, and closed it again. Veronica laughed in her usual, obnoxious way.

"No one, I presume," she sneered. "Well, Betty, call me if you need me to buy you a dress or anything. I'll talk to you later."

Betty was looking at him. "You're not taking _anybody_?" she asked. "Not even Ethel?"

"Ethel's going with Martin," Jughead answered quietly. He was referring, of course, to the 6 foot tall incredibly skinny varsity-basketball-playing-boy with big, curly, sandy hair that sat in front of him in science class. He wasn't so great. "Joani moved to Centerville. Debbi hates me. I. Have. No one."

Betty's eyes opened wide.

For a moment there was silence.

And then she burst out laughing.

Jughead furrowed his brow.

"You just love seeing me suffer don't you?" Jughead teased. He was smiling. Her laughter always made him smile.

"You're hilarious," she told him seriously, pausing to wipe a single tear out from the inner corner of her eye. "You just don't know how funny you are."

"I don't get it," he told her stupidly.

"I don't know. Just something about you," she told him, slipping a few more noodles into her mouth. She smiled admiringly at him and he felt his cheeks go hot.

"Don't be jealous," he answered imperiously, waving his arm about in mock of a British queen. She laughed again.

"Here," she said, sucking the spaghetti between her lips. She rolled three meatballs onto his plate.

"Wha--?" he began.

"You deserve them, you comedian, you. I'd give you money if I had any." He sneered.

"Common meatballs, I am insulted." He feigned outrage and pushed the plate away from himself. Betty wore a look of mock-indignation.

"Zut alors!" she exclaimed, pouring on a thick French accent. "What would you prefer, majesty?" she continued, bowing a little.

_You, going to the dance with me. _

He coughed, pushing the thought away. He didn't have the guts to say that. He just didn't.

"...Meatballs are cool," he answered after a few seconds, pulling his plate back to himself. Betty snorted.

"Dork."

"Jerk."

"Poophead."

"_GASP!_ Your language!" Betty stuck her tongue out at him and grinned.

Betty was simply adorable. He hadn't seen Archie all day. And now he had a plateful of meatballs.

Today was looking up.

* * *

It was now 2:58. 

Jughead glanced to his left. Betty was measuring out five milliliters of liquid nitrate. He had less than two minutes left.

_Okay,_ he thought. _Just ask. Turn to the left, and ask. It's exactly the same as this morning._ Well, that was _almost_ true. The only difference was that he was in Chem class instead of his room. And he didn't have eight practice tries. And it was Betty he was asking, not Hot Dog. And, unlike Hot Dog, Betty had the ability to say 'No.' And to laugh in his face.

This wasn't helping.

"Betty?" he began. She looked up at him. Even with those obnoxiously hideous protective goggles on, she still looked amazing. He lost his train of thought.

"Yes, Jug?"

"I wanted--"

_BRRRINNNNNGG._

He looked at his watch. _Dammit._ The bells were off-schedule, he supposed.

"Wanted what?" She had to raise her voice in order to be heard over all of the last-minute plans being screeched out over the chemistry room.

"...Nothing," he answered. His ears burned red as he began to pack his bag. They burned even redder, however, when Betty's hand touched the small of his back.

"Wanted _what?_" she repeated. He couldn't bring himself to look at her and merely repeated his previous answer. She gave an audible sigh. "Jug, what's up? Why won't you tell me anything anymore?"

"It's not of particular importance," he answered. "I'll tell you later or something." She stared at him through her plastic goggles, head tilted slightly.

"Please?" she asked. He glanced up to look at her face, which was purposely more adorable than normal. She extended her lower lip and lowered her head. "Please?"

Now or never.

"Well, I just wanted to know if it was too late--"

"Betty!" Jughead whipped around to see what had interrupted him. Again.

A certain red-headed menace was standing in the doorway, grinning at a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed lovely with wide eyes.

"Guess what Ronnie just told me!" Betty exchanged a knowing glance with Jughead and feigned interest.

"What?"

"She's not coming to the dance tomorrow!" Archie exclaimed, arms extended.

"Er, great," Betty answered, her lips twisting upward in a kind of smile.

"Could you--Would you come with me?"

Betty looked almost genuinely elated for a moment. She had to be a really good actress, Jughead thought, because she had already known about this ahead of time. Not to mention the fact that she didn't even _like_ Archie anymore. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Then, as if stalling for time, she wrapped her hand around her pencil case and dropped it into her bag. Her knee brushed against Jug's.

It was too late for Jughead, and he knew it. He had waited too long. If only that damned bell hadn't rung two minutes early, he could've invited her. She could've said yes. She wouldn't have had to go with Archie, and they both could've been happy. He was killing himself on the inside. He had had so many opportunities to ask her and he hadn't taken himself up on a single one! Sometimes he could be so stupid. He wondered vaguely if she would have accepted his offer, even though she hadn't wanted to go with Archie.

"I mean, that is...If you don't have a date already, of course," Archie added, his eyebrows knitting together.

Betty looked at Jughead. He looked back.

Archie waited.

_Should I say something? Should I ask her now? Should I challenge Archie to a duel?_

After an eternity and a half, Betty turned away from him. "Sure."

Jughead could have killed himself.


	8. Chapter 8: Conversations

I positively hated that last chapter, by the way. Pretty much nothing happened and it was horrendously boring. SOORRRY. So here's another one, possibly to make up for the horrendousness of that last one. Which was dreadful.

This one is pretty much all dialogue, so read it if you don't think I've put in enough BxJH interaction yet. But there's also very important plot twists hidden in this chapter. BTW, this story has about 2 chapters left. Be happy, it's almost over.

**Archie Comics are still not mine, though I own like 3000 issues. I'm so lame.**

* * *

"_WHAT?_" 

Jughead winced. He had expected this kind of reaction. His hand nervously found the back of his neck, and he slipped his crown off and sat back against his favorite (Betty-scented) pillow.

It was 3:44.

"I just don't see the point, you know?" he attempted. "I mean, I don't have a date, I'll be completely alone, and I know for a fact that they won't even have _burgers._ And plus, I'll have to wear either goofy shades or a goofy hat."

"Jug, you _always_ wear a goofy hat."

"Yeah, but this one will have to have earflaps." She sighed.

"Jughead, please go."

"Betty, I don't see the point!"

"I'm asking you to! Please!"

"I...I don't think so." He couldn't bring himself to tell her the real reason that he wasn't going: he didn't want to watch her have a great night with Archie, his ex-best pal. He also just didn't think it would be very fun to dance by himself for the entire night. There was a long pause.

"Alright, I'm coming over."

"What?"

"I'm coming over! I have to get you to come. Otherwise...otherwise I won't have any fun at all. And neither will you."

Jughead found himself smiling like a second-grader with a cupcake.

"Stop smiling and get dressed, Forsythe."

He frowned and looked down at his bare chest and green pajama pants. She knew him too well.

* * *

When Jughead opened the door, he was greeted with Betty. Flinging her arms around him. 

"GOOOO!" she whined. He rolled his eyes and flipped around, dragging her inside with him. He closed the door behind them. She pressed her face into the dip between his neck and shoulder, sending a pleasant shiver up his spine. "Please?" she added, muffled by his sweater.

"Oh, shut up. Give me one good reason."

She emerged from his arm to give him a toothy grin. "Me!" He laughed.

"You sure are conceited."

"No, I'm just fantastic." He laughed again. "Who's home?" she asked.

"Hot Dog?" Jughead offered, gesturing to the shaggy white mess jumping up against the sliding door.

"Aww, why's he outside?" Betty asked, disentangling herself from him and approaching the glass.

"Pissed in the house." Betty made a face and retreated, heading towards the stairs. "Where are you going?" Jughead asked, staring at her as she climbed up to the landing.

"Your room, stupid," she answered. Jughead's mouth opened slightly as she smirked at him, and he had to concentrate on something completely mundane (History class) in order to keep his teenage mind from running wild. He followed quickly after her.

She twisted the knob and threw the door open, then slipped off her shoes and leapt onto Jug's bed. He snorted at her.

"You're so immature."

"I just know how to have fun," Betty retorted, making a hand gesture that clearly meant 'And you don't.'

"Oh, what's _that _supposed to mean?" Jughead fought, placing a hand on his hip. Betty grabbed his softest pillow and brought her knees up, using it to cushion her head.

"Clearly, you have no concept of fun, young man. After all, you _are _planning on skipping a high school dance. One that sounds like oodles of fun."

"Who says oodles?"

"You're missing the point."

Jughead sighed and ruffled his hair, a habit he had gotten into in the past few days. "This dance does not sound like fun."

"Don't be such a baby. I want you to go."

"I know you do."

"I'm _begging _you to go."

"What for?"

"So I can sneak away from Archie halfway through the dance, of course. Midge will have a date, Ethel will have a date, Veronica won't be there. Who else am I supposed to spend the whole night at the punch bowl with?"

"Yeah, but--"

"And what happens when Archie finds Cheryl Blossom or that brunette from his Latin class? What am I supposed to do, hide in the girls' bathroom again? Like at every dance?"

"Well, I--"

"Jughead, I know you don't dance. I know that school functions aren't your 'thing.' I know you don't really want to go out of your way for just me--" _Au contraire._ "--but, please. I'm asking you to come."

Her choice of words put Jughead at a lack of speech, thought, and breath. _Asking._ I'm _asking you._

"Not to sound selfish, or anything," she continued, flipping around so that her head was at the foot of the bed. She rested her arms on his pillow and waited for his answer.

"I--" he began. He could feel his face burning bright red. "I--I guess, I mean, I think that I--"

"Yes?"

"...Yes."

"Oh, Jughead! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She pulled him onto the bed and engulfed his entire being in a body-crushing hug. He couldn't breathe...for multiple reasons. The first being that she was squishing his lungs. The second being that her chest was the part of her body that was squishing his lungs. The third being that she had pulled him down so forcefully that they had actually fallen over and were now lying side-by-side on Jughead's bed, her chest crushing his lungs.

* * *

It was 4:23. 

Somehow, thirty minutes had elapsed with the two teenagers sitting in Jughead's room, on his bed, not really doing much at all, save talking about how stupid it was to have an Aviation-themed dance.

"I'll call you later," Betty told him with a grin, her hand on his doorknob. He nodded.

"Want me to walk you home?"

"I live right behind you, Juggie."

He always did love it when she called him that.

"Well, yeah, but, y'know. It's getting dark."

"Is not, Juggie."

"But it _will be_."

"Stop worrying about me, Juggie," she told him. She let go of the knob and leaned backwards against his front door, her lips half-turned in a devious smirk.

"I can't," Jughead said. Her smile dropped slightly. "You're my best friend," he decided to add, thinking quickly. As if he had turned a dial, Betty's smirk came back full-force.

"You're mine, too," she told him quietly.

And then she took three steps toward him.

And then she kissed his right cheek.

And then Jughead stopped moving, stopped thinking, stopped seeing.

And then, finally, she tilted her head to one side, bit her lip, smiled, and left.

And then he was alone.

* * *

_Shit._

There were exactly 26 hours left until the Aviation dance began, and Jughead had neither a suit nor an airplane-esque article of clothing. He had to call either Archie or Reggie and he knew it.

Archie was his first choice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Arch."

"Hey, bud. What's up?"

"I, uh," he stammered. He was nervous, but he had no idea why. "Do you have an extra suit? I mean, for the dance tomorrow?"

A few moments passed.

"...You mean you're going?"

"Er, yeah," Jug answered, a little too quickly.

"Who with?"

"Not _with_ anybody, per se."

"What made you change your mind?" Archie interrupted. He had hoped he wouldn't ask this question. Was he supposed to lie, or what?

"Uh, someone told me that if I didn't go I would be missing out on an intense high school experience," he answered lamely. He was semi-confident. It was the truth, at least. "I can't say I disagree with them."

"Well, yeah, I've got an extra suit. Except, it'll swim on you." Good ol' Arch. You could always depend on him in the most pressing situations. Of course, he was usually the one to get you into those pressing situations, but that was beside the point.

"Thanks, Arch. When should I get it?"

"I'll bring it to school tomorrow," Archie answered. "Listen, I've gotta go. I'm going to ask Betty if she wants to take in a movie."

Jughead winced. "Yeah, okay, buddy."

"See you tomorrow."

"See you."

Jughead hung up his banana-shaped reciever, feeling considerably worse than he had before he had phoned his ex-best friend.

He wished he had called Reggie.

* * *

After calling Archie, Jug had done nothing for about an hour, done his homework for about an hour, and then eaten for about an hour. And then he had waited for Betty to call him for about an hour. 

Now he was tired of waiting. (And of one-hour blocks of activity.) He huffed and reached for his phone.

As he punched the 'Send' button, a sudden thought hit him--what the hell was _she_ wearing to the dance tomorrow? Was he supposed to know this? Should he coordinate his outfit to match hers? And then another thought hit him--she was probably still at the movies. Jug rolled his eyes and made to flip his phone closed when she answered.

"Hey, Juggaroo." He was stunned silent for a moment.

"What are you wearing to the dance tomorrow?"

"What, no greeting?" He smacked himself in the forehead. "Did you just smack yourself in the forehead?"

"Do you watch me at all hours of the day?" he asked, grinning into the phone. "I mean, you knew I was in my pajamas, too."

"Oh, whatever. I just know you, that's all."

"You know me better than _I _know me," he observed. She laughed.

"That's true."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"So, what are you wearing?" he elaborated, leaning backwards on the couch.

"Oh. I don't know, Veronica's going to bring me some fantastic Parisian creation that's too old to be hanging in her closet. I have no say in the matter," she sneered.

"I see. It's probably from last season, anyway," Jughead mocked.

"Or last week."

This time they both laughed.

"So?"

"So, what?"

"So, I'm getting tired of this 'So what' game," Jughead answered, rolling his eyes.

"So am I."

"So stop it."

"So you stop first."

"So shut up already."

"So don't tell a lady to shut up."

"So are you home alone?"

"So what do you care?"

"So answer the question."

"So...yes."

Another laugh.

"So I'm coming over."

"So I'll be here."

"So, bye then," Jughead finished, waving his hand in an oddly artistic gesture.

"So, see you in a few minutes."

"So yeah."

"So bye."

* * *

"So how was your date with Archie?" he asked upon his arrival, removing his trademark crown from the top of his head. 

"So, who told you about that?" Betty asked, her face reddening.

"Arch, of course."

"YOU LOST!" Betty squealed, giggling and pointing.

"We stopped playing already, Betty. You're late. And stop changing the subject." She frowned.

"It was...boring, to say the least," she answered, gesturing him over to the couch. She pulled the beanie from his hand, fingers brushing against his as she did so.

"Where are you going with my hat?" She took it with her and closed the front door, then plopped it squarely on her head, giving him a smug smile. "And how so?" he added, referencing the date she had been talking about.

"We went to the movies and then he took me home. We saw the same romantic comedy, by the way. The one about the quirky, slightly crazy boy and the always-just-a-friend girl--"

"Who fall in love under strange circumstances, I remember," Jughead finished. She nodded enthusiastically.

"It was much better the first time," she told him, taking a seat right next to him on the couch.

"Because you already knew what was going to happen the second time," Jughead responded. "Obviously."

"Or maybe because I didn't _want_ to go with _Archie_," she corrected, smirking at him.

Jughead said nothing.

"So, what are you wearing?" she asked, pulling her knees up in front of her and crossing her arms.

"Whatever Archie brings for me."

"My, we are a pair, aren't we?" she asked, grinning.

"The biggest mooches of Riverdale High." She laughed. He liked it when she laughed at his jokes. He glanced at the clock. "Shit, it's past ten!" he observed, standing up.

"Are you going home?" she asked. He nodded and started for the door. "Stay," she commanded.

"What?" he asked, whirling around.

"Please?"

"Betty, I don't know if I can--"

"Jug, you told me to call you if I need anything. If you go home, I'm just going to call you and tell you that I need you to come over," she explained expertly, one hand on her hip. His mouth opened in surprise. So she had remembered.

"Betty, my mother--"

"She won't mind. She knows I'm here alone. And, plus, it's not like we're going to curl up on the couch and make out for hours and hours." She finished with a dainty gesture of her hand. Jughead flushed. "It's a _school night._"

Had he been drinking something, he would have either choked or drowned.

"So, if it wasn't a school night, we _would_ curl up on the couch and make out for hours and hours?" Jughead teased. He figured she had made a simple grammatical mistake.

"Perhaps. We'll see, the next time it's not a school night. If you take it upon yourself to invite yourself over again, of course."

Jughead was convinced that he was dreaming.

Betty Cooper was unmistakably flirting with him.

"That's what I thought," she teased back, coaxing a single blonde strand of hair behind her ear. "Now, _stay._"

"There's nowhere for me to sleep."

"We'll sleep on the couch. Don't think you're getting out of this that easy," Betty warned.

"I'm not letting you sleep on the couch."

"Too bad, because I'm not taking 'No' for an answer, Forsythe."

"Betty, no. I won't let you sleep on the couch."

He was lingering half way between the sofa and the door. Betty was standing a good fifteen feet away from him. At this, however, she got up and closed the gap between them, putting on her pouting face and clasping her hands together in front of herself.

"Juugggieee," she whined.

"That's not going to work, dear," Jughead said, sticking his tongue out at her. She changed her strategy, instead placing one hand on his chest and the other around his waist.

"Juugggiiee," she repeated, her eyes half-lidded.

"That won't work either," he responded. He was sure that his body language was saying something completely contradictory, however. She changed her strategy one last time.

And she punched him in the stomach.

"JUGGIE!" she said loudly, raising her fist.

"Ah! Okay, okay! It worked!" he winced, flinching away from her raised hand.

"Oh, good! I'll get the blankets!" she chirped, bouncing away from him and up the stairs. He rolled his eyes heavenwards and trailed after her.


	9. Chapter 9: The Suit

Hello again.

So, somebody who hasn't messaged me back yet recently called my favorite pairing "Bughead." I about died laughing. It was simply the most fantastic BxJH name I have ever heard in my entire life, and believe me, I've heard a lot.

So, _thank you,_ mysterious stranger whose name won't go here until you message me saying that it's okay.

And I heart you guys times infinity. Do not forget.

Keep reviewing, por favor.

P.S.: One chapter left.

**Disclaimer: Archie Comics belongs to your mama. If you're the offspring of the Archie Comics creator, of course.

* * *

**

Jughead woke up to a sharp pain along his right side. Confused, he waited a moment until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. In the minute or two which elapsed, he realized that he was lying in his bed. So he _had _been dreaming. He wondered how much of this fantastic Betty-flirting his subconcious had tortured him with. Did it go all the way back to January, where they pelted each other with snowballs and watched the sun rise, or was it even earlier than that? He wondered if his entire life had been a dream. He wondered if everything he had ever known and believed in had been a figment of the darker half of his imagination--the half that he seldom delved into other than when he was asleep. Somewhere in the middle of this philosophical schpiel, he noticed that the far wall of his room was not where it had been the day before. He frowned. His comforter was thicker and more luxurious, as well.

And it was purple.

With green flowers.

His first thought was that he was in a mental ward, which made sense because he believed himself to be a boy, though these pretty purple and green flowers said otherwise.

His second thought was that he had somehow been abducted by aliens while he slept and was now dumped unceremoniously into the bed of some unknowing, unsuspecting little girl.

He was half right.

Then he felt the pain in his side again and remembered to turn to the right. There he found a sleeping girl. She was curled on her side, one arm underneath her head and the other sprawled out across his stomach. Her right knee was bent at a ninety degree angle to her body and her left knee (the one that caused all the pain, presumably) was digging into Jughead's side abdominals.

He gently nudged it away with his free hand. _Free hand?_ His left hand was completely mobile and visible to the eye. It took him a moment to find his right. It was underneath her, supporting her back. He sucked in a sharp breath and his mind began racing.

How the hell did he get in her bed, in the first place?

_Okay. We were talking on the phone...I came over...She tried to make me sleep on the couch. There was only enough room for her, so I set up a place on the floor. She got mad, we argued for a little while, she got mad again. I went to get some popcorn from home...Then what?_

When he came back she had called him upstairs. He, being male, ran up to meet her (of course). She had set up a place on the floor for the two of them. Her reasoning had been simply, "There's carpet in here. We'll be able to sit up in class tomorrow." She had overestimated the comfort of sleeping on a carpeted floor, however, because within minutes, she began complaining. Jughead had to wrestle her into the bed in order to shut her up, and then resumed his place on the floor.

At about twelve o' clock there there had been a loud noise outside for nearly ten minutes. He still wasn't quite sure what it was, to tell the truth. It had sounded like a cat on a trash can, probably running from Hot Dog. Betty had jumped down next to him and whispered for him to, "Please, please," sleep next to her.

How could he resist?

When he was done reflecting, Jug's ears and face were burning hot. The frog clock next to her said that it was nearly four in the morning. He sighed.

Betty's knee collided with his side again and, frustrated, he flipped around so that his stomach was facing hers. He figured she wouldn't be able to reach him if he pulled his hips back far enough. He was correct. Triumphant, he decided to worm his arm out from underneath her. He placed his left hand just below her stomach and gently, ever so gently, moved her hips halfway high enough for him to get his hand through. When she began to stir, he stopped moving all together. But then she quieted and he continued with his task, edging her hips up just a quarter inch more before she stirred again. This went on for at least two minutes before he was successful in pulling his hand out from under her side, upon which he flexed his fingers and pumped his arm in a burst of victorious feeling.

"Jughead."

He froze.

"What. The hell. Are you doing," she asked in a monotonous, robotic tone. He opened his mouth.

"...Uhhh," he offered, his hand still in the air.

"You are so weird," she mused. He couldn't see her face, but he hoped she was smiling.

"Go back to sleep," he commanded. She nodded, flipping over and shifting so that her side pressed against his stomach, and closed her eyes.

Needless to say, Jughead didn't sleep at all after that.

* * *

After at least two and a half hours Betty woke up again. Around forty-five minutes before that, Jughead had given all hope of getting his ever-swelling nether regions to leave him alone. Thankfully, they had finally gotten tired of trying to annoy him and stopped misbehaving all on their own. Nevertheless, he held his breath as Betty's eyes fluttered open. 

"G'morning," she said groggily. Jughead nodded carefully. "I need to shower," she told him, flipping the covers off herself. "What time is it?"

"Around seven, I guess," Jughead answered, swinging his legs out over the side of the bed. They were both clothed in jeans and t-shirts. As Betty stood up, Jughead noticed that her shirt had ridden up throughout the night and was now halfway up her back. He was attempting to keep himself from laughing, but failed miserably. She pulled it down and ushered him out.

Around twenty minutes later Jug re-entered the house, freshly washed, dressed, and fed. Betty was just getting out of the shower. She stepped out of her room in a baby blue bathrobe and made an angry kind of face at him.

"What the hell! You're finished already?!"

"I'll make breakfast," he offered with a grin. She rolled her eyes.

"I hate you men and your crazy 15-minute preparation time," she sneered, poking her tongue out at him. "I still have to dry my hair, pick out my clothes, and do my makeup."

"And eat breakfast," Jughead added, brandishing a skillet at her.

"This'll take at least a half hour, Jug," she warned, pointing at herself. He shrugged.

"I can wait."

"Stop being so sweet," she said seriously, making an inappropriate hand gesture.

"Hey, now!" he exclaimed, feigning disapproval. She grinned and left the landing, leaving him with a skillet in his hand and a smile on his face.

He opened the fridge: skim milk, eggs, a full package of turkey bacon, deli lunch meat, salad dressing, and lots and lots of fruits and vegetables. _Ew._

He opened the cupboards: _Hundred Calorie Packs_, Vitamin Water, more fruit, sugar-free sugar, nonfat cookies, and tea.

"You're not watching your weight, are you, Bets?" he called, closing the shelves.

"Of course."

"What the hell for?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you're perfect the way you are."

"Society tells me I need to be Veronica-sized, so I stay Veronica-sized," she answered.

"Well, I'm telling you that I want you Betty-sized."

"I _am_ Betty-sized!"

"Well, if Betty-sized is that tiny, you could stand to be a bit less Betty-sized."

"Shut up. But thank you."

"I don't see how that was a compliment."

"Neither do I. Society tells me that when somebody tells I me I look like a stick-figure, I say 'Thank you.'"

"Society is whack, Betty."

"I know, Jug. I know."

He cracked four eggs into his skillet, choosing to add some (skim) mozarella cheese and freshly-sliced tomatoes before stirring it up and making it into an omelette. He fried turkey bacon in another pan and cut a grapefruit in half while waiting for the meal to cook, choosing to place two packets of sugar-free sugar on the plate, as well.

He finished about three minutes before Betty did, giving him just enough time to grab a few daisies from the bush outside and arrange them on the table.

"Hello hello, Juggiepants," she greeted, strolling into the room accompanied by her usual sunny aura. "Ooh, this looks delicious."

"I know," he answered nonchalantly, picking up his fork.

"There's so much," she laughed, picking up her fork as well.

"I know," he repeated. "Here, that's mine." He took her plate. "You can have a little of this grapefruit or something."

"_Jug!_"

* * *

In geometry class, Lisa Park came up to Betty while Jughead was talking to her. 

"I heard you're going with Archie," she began in her usual, whiny voice. Betty turned around.

"Oh, yeah. I am," she said, trying to smile.

"You must be ecstatic!" Lisa squealed. "I know how much you like him." Betty looked at Jughead and discreetly made a face.

"Yeah, I'm so excited," she said. She had just finished explaining to Jughead her elaborate plan for the dance tonight--the one that involved committing outlandish shenanigans in an attempt to get Archie so distracted that she could slip away unnoticed. "It should be great fun."

"I'm going with--Oh, hello, Jughead."

"Hi, Lisa."

Under her breath: "Who's _he_ going with?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that, but I have no idea," Betty answered, shooting Jughead a look.

"Well, his ex Joani moved, and I heard Debbi's mad at him or something. Plus, Ethel's going with Fabulous-Hair Martin," Lisa gossiped, her voice getting louder with every word.

"Yeah, I know. He told me," Betty nodded, squeezing Jug's hand underneath the desk in a comforting gesture.

"Plus, he didn't ask anybody. Some of the girls are wondering if he really _likes_ girls, or if he--"

"You know I'm sitting right here, right, Lisa?" Jug asked, leaning forward and smiling. Her face turned an odd shade halfway between the color of a radish and that of a raspberry, and she opened and closed her mouth several times, much like a fish, before settling back down behind the two of them.

"You see what I mean?" Jughead whispered furiously.

"What?" Betty answered, just as quietly.

"Everyone will think I'm a loser if I don't show up with anybody," he answered, shaking his head.

"Will not," Betty snorted. "Plenty of kids are going without dates."

"Correction: Plenty of _freshmen_ are going without dates. It's only okay if you're a freshman, and that's only because they usually don't have any friends to go with, anyway."

"I'm your friend," Betty retorted.

"You're my _best_ friend."

"So, then, go to the dance for me. Y'know, we've been through this already, Juggie."

"It's not really the same."

"So, what? You want me to tell Archie, 'Oh, sorry, Arch. Jughead's kind of sad so I'm going to be going with _him_ to the dance, instead.'?"

"It'd be nice," Jug answered, joking of course.

"Jughead, puh-leez. I already promised Veronica. And she's already not going, and Archie's already got a suit. I can't bail out now."

"I wish you could," Jughead mumbled angrily.

"So do I."

Jughead glanced sideways at her, unable to control the smile that was now seeping across his face and illuminating his features. She was busy deciphering the cluster of variables and shapes in front of herself.

Jughead spent the rest of that class daydreaming.

* * *

After school, all Jughead could think about was getting his suit as soon as possible. 

"Okay, Betty, I've really got to leave," Jughead announced, letting go of her hand and pulling his sleeve back to glare at his watch.

"No, you don't," she answered, sticking her hand out for him to take.

"You said that fifteen minutes ago, the last time I told you I had to go."

"I know," she told him, pulling his arm towards her face so she could see his watch. "It's only three."

"I've got to go and find Archie and my suit, remember?" Jughead mocked, placing one hand on his hip.

"Oh, yeah. And I've got to go get my dress from Veronica, too." She bit her lip and looked behind her as if her ex-best friend was following her. "Are you coming over later?"

"Won't you be with Archie?"

"Not until six-thirty, dingbat," she reminded him, making a face.

"Well, I figure you won't be done picking out your dress from Veronica's bountiful wardrobe until about four, then you'll probably go home and get ready for a few hours."

She narrowed her eyes. "'A few hours?' Are you calling me ugly?" Jughead blushed.

"No--I mean--Well, you know how girls are, they just--I'm sorry," he finished lamely. She laughed.

"I know what you meant. And you're probably right. I'll call you before the dance or something, 'kay?"

He nodded and they parted, Jug heading for the parking lot and Archie's car, and Betty heading for the front of the school and Veronica's limo. Jug stood outside of Archie's car for about ten minutes before he finally showed up.

"Hey, Jug!" Archie called, waving. Jughead smiled.

"What's up, buddy?"

"Ahh, the usual. Veronica's leaving for Centerville at about four, and Betty's hanging with her until then. The dance starts at seven, anyway. Oh, and here's your suit," he added quickly, reaching into the back seat of his car. He pulled out an opaque, white dry-cleaning bag and handed it to Jughead. "Call me if there's any problems. And don't worry, I stuck the tie in there and everything. It's a matching set, so wear it all together or it won't look right."

"Thanks, Arch. You're a great friend," he announced, taking Archie's hand and giving it a brotherly shake.

"Yeah, well, you'd better go get ready. You've only got three and a half hours," Archie reminded him. "I'm going to go rent a tuxedo. I had a suit picked out, but I'm sure Betty'll like this better," he said with a grin, waving as he jumped into his car.

Jughead watched him drive off for a minute or two, and then turned around to begin his walk home.

He didn't really know why he refused to take a car to school.

* * *

_What the hell is he trying to do to me?_ Jughead asked himself, twirling around in front of his mother's three-way mirror. His mother was attempting to hide her giggles and his dad looked sympathetic. 

"It might look better underneath the disco lights, son," his father told him, scratching the back of his neck in his trademark _I-am-lying_ gesture.

"You said it would look better when I put it on," Jughead answered bitterly, unable to take his eyes off himself.

"Well, look on the bright side, Jug."

"_Very funny, mom!_" he interrupted. His dad burst out laughing.

"I mean that seriously," she giggled. "At least you'll attract attention."

"I don't want to attract _this _much attention! This is ridiculous, even for me! I thought Archie and me were friends." He muttered that last bit under his breath.

"It can only get better from here," his father said, using a famous dad euphemism. Jug rolled his eyes and his parents exited the room.

_What is Betty going to think?_


	10. Chapter 10: You're My Best Friend

Well, well, wellie well well. Here be the last chapter of "Of Peculiar Hats and Pretty Blondes," and, as you may well imagine, I am incredibly sad. Next I have planned a DxHr story or something along those lines. And then after that I have no idea. So here we go. Last chapter. Tragic, I know.

I'll have you know that I'm not particularly fond of this chapter, though the story and the pairing are my favorites. Maybe there'll be a tiny epilogue of some sort some time in the near future.

**Disclaimer: After all I've been through, I am sorry to admit that Archie Comics is _still _not mine. But maybe after this story is over they'll realize how fantastic BxJH is and they'll give it to me. Though I doubt it.**

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* * *

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Jughead couldn't take his eyes off himself. _There is no way in hell I'm going to this thing,_ he thought, fingering his bow tie lightly. _I'll just skip it and tell Betty I got sick or something. Yeah, that's it. I'll tell her I got sick._

_...You're pathetic, you know._He winced at the sudden appearance of his harder-to-please Jimminy Cricket. "Yeah, I know. But, hell. Can you _see_ this thing? It pains my retinas to look directly at it for more than three seconds at a time." _So, make it work._ "And how in the hell do I 'Make it work?' Wear a matching belt?" _Do you have a belt this color?_ "_Nobody_ has a belt this color!" He twisted this way and that in the mirror, trying to find a position that disguised the fact that his suit positively swam on him. After a moment the reflective blue material caught the light and Jug was temporarily blinded. He rubbed at his eyes and fell frustrated against the wall. The worst part, however, wasn't that the suit was a few sizes too big. It wasn't that the color was a strong powder blue that clashed with everything he was (including his personality). It wasn't that the ruffly undershirt was reminiscent of a pirate, or that the bright bowtie had a luminescent sheen to it, or even that his hair wouldn't stay down no matter how much he combed it. The worst part was that it was too late to get a new suit, it was too late to get matching shoes, and it was too late to run to the store and buy himself some extra-strength hair gel. "Damnit," he muttered, crossing his arms across his chest in an imitation of a pouty first-grader.

Jughead continued feeling sorry for himself (and staring into his mother's mirror) for another twenty-something minutes. Then his phone rang.

"Jughead, where the hell are you?" Betty asked as soon as he flipped his clunky LG open.

"Uh, home. Why?"

"The dance is starting in, like, five minutes! Are you ready?"

"Yeah, about that. I don't know if I'm going to make it, Bets." There was a long, drawn-out pause.

"Someone better have died, Juggie."

"It's just that my suit is bordering on absolutely ridicu--"

"I don't _care_! You're going whether you like it or not, Forsythe Pendleton Jones! There's no way in hell I'm going to this thing without you." He sighed.

"Betty, I--"

"If you don't get your skinny little ass over here _right now_, I swear I'm going to rip your hair straight out of your head," she threatened. Jug opened his mouth. It stayed open so long that his tongue started to dry out. "Jug!"

"Okay, alright. I'm on my way."

"Thank you."

* * *

Jughead didn't know why he refused to take a car to school. By the time he was done with his ten-minute trek to the gymnasium, his black shoes were covered in dirt. He paused outside the double-doors for a minute or two, taking longer than was necessary to dust them off. _At least the shoes match the belt, _he reflected, licking his thumb to rub at a particularly stubborn bit of dust. He traced the belt, also black, with his finger and stared down at his feet. He was nervous about walking into a room full of people dressed like this. Hopefully, he thought, since he was already about ten minutes late, no one would notice his entrance. He took a deep breath, placed his aviator's hat squarely on his head, and pushed lightly on the horizontal metal bar, allowing himself entry. 

Everyone was staring right at him, as if they had been waiting for Britney Spears to walk in. He braced himself for laughter.

It came instantly.

Jughead stood like a fool in front of the congregation of giggling students, door closing silently behind him. It was much too late to run away. This was exactly like the underwear dream that plagued so many elementary school students. Well, it would be, if you replaced the audience with jocks and cheerleaders and the like, replaced the auditorium with a high school dance, replaced the dream with reality, and replaced the underwear with a powder blue suit. He felt like crying.

Then, as if on cue, Betty Cooper stepped out of the crowd, shining and immaculate. Her face expressed concern and confusion, which quickly gave way to mild amusement. Her hair, Jughead noticed, was curled and pulled back into several loosely-wrapped buns. And those several buns were wrapped into one large bun, with a few tendrils hanging with her bangs around her face. She was wearing an old-fashioned helicopter scarf. And, as his eyes travelled downwards, he saw the dress that Veronica had undoubtedly picked out for her. It was neon yellow and didn't match her eyes, her skin tone, her hair, or even her scarf. The fit, however, was absolutely amazing, which was more than he could say for his eye-torturing suit, at least two sizes too big for his scrawny frame. She was the first to step forward. Archie was somewhere behind her, and Jughead made sure to throw him a dirty look before addressing his date.

"Move out of the way, you assholes!" she demanded in a very unladylike manner, elbowing most of the football team in order to clear a path in which she could reach him. She grinned when she finally did. "You look amazing," she giggled.

"I'd tell you how _you_ look, but your bright yellow dress has mysteriously blinded me." She snorted.

"Well, your fancy turquoise suit isn't too easy on the eyes either, bub, but at least _I_ was nice about it."

"Excuse me, but this color is _powder blue._"

They both burst out laughing. By this time most of the students had lost interest in Jughead's ugly, too-big outfit, and had migrated into the usual pre-dance position: lingering somewhere near the punch bowl.

Jughead, too, took his spot along the wall, watching with timid jealousy as couple after couple joined hands and escorted each other onto the dance floor. With a jolt sent straight to his stomach he spotted Ethel Muggs, cavorting around around the slightly elevated expanse of floor arm-in-arm with this Martin kid. His upper lip lifted involuntarily in an animalistic gesture of dislike. She was really a very good dancer.

Jughead began to feel depressed. He looked to his right, only to observe that he and a few freshmen were the only ones left hanging around the far wall of the gym. He sneered again and pulled the earflaps sharply down on his hat, effectively hiding his face from the rest of the room. Why the hell had he even come?

After what felt like an eternity, he felt a gentle tapping on his shoulder. He flipped the furry visor on his hat up.

"Hey, Jug," Midge greeted, smiling warmly.

"Hiya, Midge," he answered. He never did like her. He respected her, but never liked her. He supposed it was because she was female.

"Are you okay?"

"I guess so. Kinda hungry." She laughed.

"Are you ever not?" He smiled in spite of himself. "Care to dance?" An unheard of amount of fear flowed from his brain to encompass his entire body.

"_NO_," he told her, shaking his head furiously.

"Wow, thanks!" she said sarcastically, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I mean--I mean, I didn't mean it like that, I only--where's Moose?"

"Oh, don't worry about him, Juggie. He's fine with it. He doesn't consider you a threat at all. Not even a minor one."

Now it was his turn to cross his arms. "Wow, thanks!" She grinned.

"So? How about it?" Jughead paused for a moment, reflected on his life, and decided it wasn't quite worth it. I mean, he hadn't even kissed a girl yet. It was much too early for him to die, and he certainly wasn't going to take Midge's word and trust enormous, football-playing Moose.

"Maybe later," he answered politely.

"Alright. You come find me, okay? Stop being such a loser and dance."

"I don't have a date, in case you haven't noticed," he pointed out.

"We're not dancing in couples, Jug," she responded, gesturing to the dance floor. It was true: in typical high school fashion, about forty clusters of students were bunched tightly together, bouncing and swaying to the music. Big Moose was standing a little to the right of Jug's friends, his head cocked to one side. He threw Jughead a smile and beckoned him over. Jughead shook his head.

"I'm going to grab a bite to eat. I'll be back," he told her with a grin. He left her standing in that same spot and half-ran to the snack bar, grabbing a handful of Cheezits and a cup of punch. He stuffed the crackers into his mouth and grabbed another handful, quickly downing his cup and dipping it into the bowl again. Then he spotted the mini sandwiches. He growled and snatched four, shoving them in with the Cheezits in terrifying haste. The tiny sophomore behind the table backed up against the wall in fear. Jughead glanced at her before taking another three sandwiches, another cup of punch, and another handful of Cheezits.

"I'm sorry, but could you--could you save some for everybody else?" she squeaked. His head shot up and his eyes widened. He was simply trying to scare her, actually. It wasn't as if he was really angry. After a tense moment of silence in which the small girl cringed against the wall and Jughead's eyebrows lowered out of his hairline, he swallowed. He turned on his heel and made to stalk away, then thought better of it, took a single Cheezit from the platter, and walked away again.

When he made it back to his spot on the wall, a certain tackily-dressed lovely was waiting for him.

"Well, hello, Juggeroo," she said with a grin, placing both hands on her hips. Jughead cocked an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes.

"Hello, Betty von Bettington." He mirrored her stance. "What happened to Archie?"

Betty rolled her eyes. "What do you think?" she asked, waving her hand towards the far end of the room in a somewhat angry gesture. Jughead's eyes traced the arc her arm had left behind.

In the corner of the dance floor was Mr. Ex-Best Friend himself, pressed flush against a pretty girl with a sultry expression and startlingly red hair.

"Cheryl Blossom," Jughead said unnecessarily, an amused expression ringing throughout his features. "He always did have a kind of...er..._itch_ for her." Betty pursed her lips and shook her head.

"That whore," she mused, blinking her eyes a few times. The two of them watched Cheryl whisper in Archie's ear. Then they watched Archie blush. Then they watched Cheryl smirk and bite her lip. Then they chose not to watch anymore.

The song changed to a kind of up-tempo, fast beat rock song, and Betty began bouncing on her feet.

"I love this song," she told him with a grin. _Aha. A hint._

"Go dance," Jughead answered. Somehow, that didn't come out the way he had planned it.

"Nah, it's cool," Betty responded, continuing to bounce up and down. Jughead was too embarrassed to try again. And so they stood in silence, Betty dancing in place, and Jughead watching her. "Hey, look!" Betty ordered, pointing once again at Archie and Cheryl. They were advancing towards the punch bowl, their dirty dancing obviously making them more than a little thirsty. Cheryl held onto his arm, and Archie's free hand draped gently around her waist.

Betty grinned wolfishly at Jughead, who grinned back. They really were best friends: Jughead knew what she was going to do even before she did it.

"HIIII, ARCHIEE!" she called, waving ridiculously and beaming full-force. Archie's reaction was immediate--he flipped around to see who was talking to him, saw who it was, reddened completely, and threw Cheryl off of himself before rushing over to her. Betty shared a secret smirk with Jughead. Cheryl stood alone, her face a cross between that of an abandoned puppy and that of an angry crocodile. Archie took both of Betty's hands.

"Betty, baby!" he appealed, slightly out of breath. "How's it hangin'?" It didn't even occur to him to greet Jughead.

"Oh, all's well, I guess. Having fun?" She waggled her eyebrows at that last bit and Archie's blush deepened (if possible).

"Er, yeah--you sort of ran off, you see--I was alone, and so Cheryl--"

"Cheryl?" Betty interrupted. "Cheryl _Blossom_? Is she here?"

Archie gaped at her.

"Cheryl, dear!" Betty shouted, waving her over. "How are you?" Cheryl rolled her eyes. She was fantastically rich, fantastically beautiful, and fantastically fantastic. She had no reason to speak to middle-income, average-looking, quasi-fantastic Betty Cooper. Betty turned back to Archie. "So. Where were you hiding?"

"I wasn't--I mean, I didn't--" he stammered, tripping over his words and using elaborate hand gestures that meant nothing. Betty blinked, waiting for an answer. "Would you like to dance?" he asked finally.

"No," Betty asked flatly. "I hereby hand you over to Cheryl. You were a lousy date, anyway," she added, waving her hand about imperiously. Archie stared at her, then his eyes narrowed.

"Ha, ha, Betty," he snorted.

"I'm serious. I don't want anything to do with you tonight. Or tomorrow night. So turn and walk away, Archiekins. Turn and walk away." She ushered him about ten feet from herself, then crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "He really _was_ a lousy date," she said, speaking to no one in particular. Jughead grinned.

"I believe it," he answered. Archie was now looking over his shoulder, his fingers wrapped gently around Cheryl's. She had her opposite hand possessively glued to his hip, and presently detatched it so that she could turn Archie's chin until he was facing her again. She said something to him and the two disappeared into the rest of the undulating crowd.

Minutes passed with Betty and Jughead making idle conversation: teasing each other, commenting on each others' outfits, making fun of various classmates under their breath as they walked by. They talked about school, they talked about Archie, they talked about Veronica, they talked about Betty's grandma, Betty's interests, about Hot Dog, about Jellybean, about their plans for the future, about anything and everything. Then the minutes gave way to hours. And then it was eleven o' clock. In a sudden gesture of friendliness, Betty squeezed Jughead's arm, which was crossed over his chest. He let it drop and turned his head to face her. She, however, merely took his hand and continued their casual exchange. For the first time since they were little kids, she intertwined her fingers with his as opposed to cupping her hand around them. Jughead found himself practically hyperventilating. Here was beautiful, smart, crazy amazing Betty Cooper, _properly_ holding hands with him, talking to him about something he couldn't even hear, and here he was: not especially attractive, skinny beyond belief, peculiar and goofy, and not very easy to understand. Then she looked up at him. She had obviously just asked him a question. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate on what she was _saying_ when he was so busy concentrating on what she was _doing_? He swallowed hard, his blood rushing to his head, his voice caught in his throat. And then he swallowed again.

"What?" he asked. At least he was able to manage a comprehensible word. He felt suddenly dizzy, suddenly fearful, and suddenly, awesomely contented all at once. She squeezed his hand, elliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

"I said it's almost 11:15," she repeated. Jughead's face was blank as he attempted to push her hand-squeeze out of his mind and wrap his brain around her words. She mistook this blank stare for one of confusion. "The dance _ends_ at 11:15," she continued. Jughead's eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to understand what she was saying. However, she was currently running the tip of her thumb over the base of his, and he found it unbelievably difficult to focus on anything other than the surge of adrenaline rushing through his body at that bit of affectionate contact.

As if he had been waiting for Betty to mention it, the deejay's voice echoed through the overcrowded gymnasium. "Last dance, folks," he announced, turning the multicolored lights off. There was much wolf-whistling and cat-calling from the senior jocks' section of the floor, and the lonely sophomore who ran the snack counter was escorted into the center of the room by a timid-looking member of her class, about four inches shorter than she was and blushing furiously. Jughead turned to Betty without thinking.

"Dance with me?"

She stared at him, mouth agape, eyes quizzical. And then her face split in two as an insuppressible smile stretched over her features. As she nodded, the reality of his question hit Jughead. Or, rather, this reality stepped into an eighteen-wheeled big rig and slammed on the gas, pulverizing Jughead. Either way, he stood like a crazy person, facing her, holding her hand, and waiting for the song to begin. After a few seconds, however, he rushed her onto the dance floor. And then it started.

The song playing was Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers.

Jughead rolled his eys.

"What?" Betty asked, entering the spot he had cleared for her. They were surrounded by other couples, most of which were staring at the two brightly-dressed and color-clashing teens.

"This song is so cliche," he answered, shrugging and taking her hand again.

"Cliche of what?" she prodded.

"You know," Jughead responded. "The end of the old fifties' movie." She merely looked at him, a bemused expression on her face. "The one about the boy and the girl, and they spend the whole movie falling in love with each other, and then at the end they share a final, climatic dance. To this song," he explained. Betty laughed.

"Shut up and dance," she demanded, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was then that Jughead realized he had absolutely no idea how to share a slow dance with a girl. He bit his lip awkwardly as Betty danced around him. Not wanting to appear too forward, he placed his arms gently on her ribcage. She rolled her eyes, released his neck with one hand, and eased his arms down so that they were resting on her waist.

Once again, the ability to breathe was forcefully ripped from Jughead's body.

His hands shook ever so slightly as he pressed them into her hips, not daring to look down into her eyes. For a few tense moments he gazed down into the gap between the two of them, at his shiny, patent leather shoes shifting ever so slowly in tight circles as he led her in time to the music. The words to the song reverberated in his head: _Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time. _It was ironic how this one song could sum up his feelings for the girl in front of him in so few words.

She managed to aggressively abolish every one of his thoughts in her next move. She tightened her grip on her own arms so that her hands were resting on her opposite elbows, pulling herself closer to Jughead and effectively eliminating every single understanding and tidbit of useful information he had ever acquired, including but not limited to how to blink, how to move, and how to speak. Then she lowered her head so that it fell to his chest.

That, my friends, is the precise moment in which Jughead knew he had fallen in love.

"_Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered, oh, hungered for your touch a long, lonely time. And time goes by so slowly..._"

* * *

Betty scowled as Cheryl Blossom slid into the passnger's seat of Archie's car. That had been her seat a mere four hours ago. Archie closed the door for her (something he had never once done for Betty), and took his own place in the driver's seat. 

As they drove away Betty made a face. "I hope she slaps you when she finds out you can't pay for dinner!" she called after them.

They were standing outside the deflated gymnasium. All the balloons were sagging to the point where they were nearly touching the floor, the streamers had been torn down by students entering and leaving the building, and the lights were on. In short, the place had a general post-dance atmosphere. Jughead's hair was back to its usual messy state, his furry hat on Betty's head in a frivolous attempt to make her a slight bit warmer than she looked. Her scarf was still wrapped around her neck, her hands rubbing frantically at frigid arms. She hadn't brought a jacket, obviously assuming that she would have had a warm ride home.

"Let's go home, Betty," Jughead suggested, beckoning her along.

It was really a beautiful night.

But unbelievably cold.

With each breath they expelled, a puffy fog cloud erupted from their mouths. They didn't speak at all on the way home.

About a block and a half away from the school, Jughead, unable to control himself, wrapped his arm about Betty's shoulders in an effort to keep her warm. He realized how this action could be mistaken for another kind of gesture only after he had done it. And he blushed.

She responded by placing her hand on the small of his back.

And they continued on, walking together in a sort of half-embrace across the leaf-ridden cement. Jughead's mind was surprisingly empty on this journey home. There was no mentally insulting himself, no half-brained instructions, no desperate suspicions, no lusty imaginings or violent thoughts. There was silence. He decided he liked it.

When they reached Betty's street, they slowed down. Jughead did it consciously, of course, and he wondered if Betty was doing it consciously as well or just following his lead. They had to reach her door eventually, however. And they did.

And when they did, Jughead stood at the foot of the stoop. And Betty sat down in front of the door.

"Sit with me," she asked simply. Jughead obeyed. The two seventeen-year-olds reclined quietly, Betty slipping off her neon shoes and laying them next to her, Jughead ruffling his hair yet again. They stared across the street, neither saying a word, but both thinking along the same lines.

The night had started off rough. It hadn't been fun for either of them. Jughead had been inflicted with self-doubt, made fun of, and laughed at. Betty had spent the last thirty minutes before the dance watching Archie stack a house of cards, spent the last five minutes trying to convince Jughead to come, and spent the first ten minutes in a determined silence as she avoided the red-headed menace at all costs. Then Jughead had entered the room, and, true to prediction, both had instantly brightened. Jughead was happy to see that he wasn't the only foolishly dressed junior there, and Betty had been genuinely glad to see a true friend. And then they had separated. And then they had reunited. And then they had danced.

And now here they sat, reflecting on their respective nights in subdued silence and quiet amusement.

"I had fun," Betty whispered.

"So did I," Jughead responded, inclining his head. She turned to face him.

"I'm glad you came," she told him truthfully. He looked back at her. "It would've been terribly lonely to walk home by myself." Jughead smiled.

"Happy to be of service."

There was a pause.

"Jughead?" Betty began, twirling one long loop of hair around and around in her fingers.

"Yes?" he answered, tilting his head to one side.

"...You're my best friend." She didn't look up, only continued to fiddle with that damned bit of hair.

"And you're mine," he told her, reaching over to engulf her in a Jughead bear-hug. Always the best friend. That's what he was. She held onto his arms so that he wouldn't (and couldn't) pull away from her, then tilted her head towards his. And so, again, she had him pinned. Only this time, it was only his arms that were pinned. And this time, he didn't really mind it so much. He wouldn't have pulled away from her even if she _had_ let go of his arms. It was during this internal monologue that Jughead chose to contemplate the proximity of the two. They were currently placed on the bottommost of Betty's front steps. He was sitting upright, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she was sort of leaned over, her legs up on the step and her arms resting over the tops of his. And then he realized the incredibly close proximity of their faces. Her nose couldn't have been more than an inch or two away from his. And her half-lidded eyes were so near to his that when he focused on them they merged into one. And her lips. Her lips--

And then they were kissing.

Although it was unclear who had initiated it, it was obvious that neither was willing to stop any time soon. The adrenaline rush that Jughead got from kissing Betty was something he never experienced before. He couldn't decide whether it was simply the kind of feeling one got no matter which girl they were pressing their lips to, or if it was only Betty that would ever provoke this kind of reaction in him.

He was semi-aware of her hands leaving his arms to hold onto the back of his head, as if he had seen it through his peripheral vision. He couldn't quite comprehend this tiny movement at the moment. His stomach was flipping over. Betty's kiss was like...oh, God, it was like nothing he had ever come close to before. There was a strangely pleasant wrenching sensation somewhere in his gut and everything melted into a swirl of color, accompanied by a rush of heat that encompassed his body despite the chilly outside temperature. He couldn't tell you when they finally resurfaced, only that when they did, Jughead was out of breath and light-headed, almost as if he had ran a mile or not eaten for a few hours. He was also grinning like a freak.

He was sure she would make fun of his ridiculous kissing. And he guessed right.

She laughed. At first he merely stared angrily at her. She could at least have the heart to wait so that she wasn't laughing in his face. And she wouldn't stop. It was both a blessing and a curse that the girl he loved had such infectious laughter. Jughead soon found himself unable to control his fluctuating diaphragm, as well. They collapsed in a fit of mirth, all tension (romantic and otherwise) escaping from their body in a few short-lived minutes.

And then it was time for Jug to go home.

He ascended the four steps with her, promising to come over the next day. She then opened her door and pressed her lips against his in a sweet, chaste kiss.

"You're my best friend," she told him again with a grin.

And it was then that he finally realized what that phrase meant. What it had always meant. And what it had meant when he said it, too.

"I love you, too."

* * *

**_End._**


End file.
